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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802246">the second advent</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/allsovacant/pseuds/allsovacant'>allsovacant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>fluff &amp; romance [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>221B Ficlet, Advent Calendar, Alternate Universe, Angst, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Complete, Crack, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Not Beta Read, POV John Watson, POV Sherlock Holmes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Trigger Warnings May Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:01:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>28,817</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802246</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/allsovacant/pseuds/allsovacant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This work will be a<br/>collection of ficlets/one-shots/short stories/drabbles based on the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SherlockXmas2020">Sherlock Xmas 2020</a> Advent Prompt List by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockWatson_Holmes">SherlockWatson_Holmes</a>.</p><p><b>Click <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802246/chapters/69267090">here</a> for the Prompts per Chapter and Explanations. If you haven't read the work, it might contain spoilers. :)<br/></b><br/>The title is a sequel to my <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/16762123">first advent</a> fic which was written 2018. </p><p>  <b>Not beta read.<br/></b><br/><b>Work has been marked as Completed. Do not copy to another site. Thank you.</b></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes &amp; John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>fluff &amp; romance [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1142561</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>285</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Sherlock Author Showcase 2020, Sherlock Xmas 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 12/01: Prompt: Eggnog | the connoisseur of puns</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockWatson_Holmes/gifts">SherlockWatson_Holmes</a>.</li>



    </ul><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <b>Prompt #1: EGGNOG </b>
</p><p> </p><p><b>Short Summary:</b><br/>Sherlock throwing eggnog puns while on a case. John contemplates his feelings. I know. What an unlikely summary. It is what it is.</p><p>Additional Tags: Holidays, Case Fic-ish, Lame arse puns</p><p><b>Trigger Warning:</b> brief mentions of murder and description (It was when John and Sherlock went back to NSY for the final briefing).</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hellmouth was on fire tonight. </p><p>In addition to the dry weather outside, the crowd of people on the makeshift stage dancing close to one another adds to that evening humidity of the first day of December. Few weeks left, and it’ll be winter. But it seemed as though autumn slammed shut the door so tight, no chill could even pass through its corners.</p><p>As John stepped farther inside, he scanned the crowd looking for Sherlock. Greg texted him that Sherlock already left the crime scene murmuring about eggnogs and Hellmouth. </p><p>Oh, that’s Sherlock Holmes alright. Working by himself again. Leaving John to do the ”trivial” things according to the mad genius.</p><p>Sherlock had sent him to the victim’s family to confirm something about an allergy and any place they know where the victim frequents. And it took John three hours before he was able to get the information needed. Poor young woman’s family was so devastated about the murder of their relative, they could barely talk.</p><p>If not for Sherlock texting him about an hour and a half ago, confirming Hellmouth was a bar and that he already had the criminals apprehended, John wouldn’t know where and how he would find him. Good thing he managed to put himself together with a black polo shirt and black jeans. Presentable enough. If all else fails, he’ll use his charm. </p><p>Christ, he was so knackered. </p><p>But if he expected to find two men handcuffed and Sherlock waiting impatiently on him, ready to spout degrading words, and how incompetent he was— boy was he wrong. Instead, he found Sherlock in the middle of a small crowd of six men, all holding mugs of … eggnog? </p><p>John raised an eyebrow, he couldn’t remember seeing Sherlock drinking the famed holiday drink. And most likely not right now, when the two suspects he recognized from Greg’s files surround Sherlock. One even had his arm around Sherlock’s slim waist.</p><p>Wait. Why had he noticed Sherlock’s waist? Now’s not the time. But why did Sherlock allow that man to touch him? His mood suddenly turned sour. He had to get Sherlock out of that man’s clutch. </p><p>But before John could move, the phone in his back pocket pinged with a text message. Pulling it out, he saw it was from Greg.</p><p>[Greg Lestrade, NSY]<br/>
We’re on our way. ETA 20. Get Sherlock out of there. You two better not be drunk again.</p><p>Right. You’ll never let us live that down, don’t you? He sent back, not a minute later, Greg’s reply made his face warm.</p><p>Are you bloody kidding me? It was that time I confirmed Sherlock’s into men as well. </p><p>John shook his head. Yeah, Greg wouldn’t let that pass. When the younger officers challenged Sherlock to get drunk at a gay bar, it made the New Scotland Yard’s happy they weren’t the cause of gossip for almost a month. A sense of emptiness suddenly enveloped him. For what, he couldn’t comprehend. Something happened that night that changed Sherlock, well, it actually began when he came back from the dead. When John shamelessly cried his heart out crying into Sherlock’s neck after he returned. His anger vanished when the Holmes’ brothers explained why Sherlock had to ”die”. And John even admired Sherlock more. The man just sacrificed his reputation and his life to eradicate Moriarty’s network. </p><p>The following weeks though, John would notice Sherlock blushing, when they made eye contact, but when he was about to ask about it, Sherlock would hightail it out of the door. It made John think that blush was for him. The thought made John stagger on his step. </p><p>”Whoa mate, you alright there?” A voice said behind him. When John turned, he saw a muscled man dressed in suspenders and black leather pants with matching black boots. The bar’s name, pinned on one of the flaps. A bartender. John nodded absentmindedly to the man. </p><p>Christ, he should get a hold of himself. He should be on high alert. John then made his way through the crowd.</p><p>It was only then that John really looked around him. And the thing that caught his eyes was the black banner hanging proudly from the makeshift posts of the stage. In bold white letters, written was the title of the night’s event:</p><p>”LEATHER NIGHT. WELCOME TO THE NEWCOMERS AND ENJOY THE FREE DRINKS!!”</p><p>Leather Night? Had Sherlock known this? </p><p>A bubble of deep laughter caught John’s attention and he turned his head to find Sherlock laughing. Sherlock was laughing with… men. Men dressed in leather. Who are all eyeing Sherlock like predators and the man was their prey. Some are licking their lips. Some are shamelessly undressing his best friend. And Sherlock who’s drunk and wasn’t aware of it. </p><p>Sherlock who’s dressed in—John’s thoughts screeched into a forced halt when he had a look at what Sherlock was wearing.</p><p>It was that damned purple shirt again. But this time, it was partnered with skinny black tight leather pants, accentuating the curve of the man’s arse.</p><p>Fuck. John was so helpless to prevent himself from feeling interested. Oh, how he wanted to fucking adjust himself. But no, he’s wearing a leather jacket that discreetly covers his front so he’s gonna be alright. No one would see.</p><p>He’ll just have to make do later when he’s finally alone in his room.</p><p>John walked to the bar counter, settling on a stool. He took a deep breath, he wasn’t supposed to lose his shit because Sherlock looked so edible holding a mug of eggnog while leaning his head back and laughing about whatever the conversation was. He hadn’t seen Sherlock this… loose, even that night they got drunk.</p><p>“Eggnog?” </p><p>John faced the counter, finding the muscled man earlier, gesturing a mug in front of him. </p><p>“Nah. Beer for me. My friend does seem to handle ordering eggnogs well.”</p><p>The bartender barked a laugh. </p><p>“That he is. That’s his third by the way.”</p><p>Well, that’s too much. Sherlock wasn’t much of a drinker. He wondered if the men got Sherlock drunk.</p><p>“Listen.” The bartender leaned closer to him.</p><p>“See those men around him?”<br/>
John nodded.<br/>
”They’re gang members. Small-time. But still, I heard they’d already killed people who wouldn’t do what they want.”</p><p>“Really,” John replied, feigning innocence as he drank half of his beer. He and Sherlock aren’t police. But it doesn’t mean he couldn’t tuck away that information for future reference.</p><p>“You better get your friend away from those men, mate. He’s smart to prolong the conversation earlier before they made a move on him. But now he has been cornered and he hadn’t noticed it since he’s drunk now. I think you need to help him out.”</p><p>Fuck. John noticed that too. It was clear that the men made a move on Sherlock before he could even fulfil his plan of catching the two criminals. Contrary to what the man said in his text message earlier. </p><p>John nodded. ”I will. I got this.”<br/>
He then pulled out a bill, handing it to the bartender, before standing, leaving the unfinished beer.</p><p>When John neared the table on the left side of the bar where the men circled Sherlock who was sitting on a chair in the midst of them, John almost couldn’t believe the conversation he was hearing. To top it all, it was Sherlock on the lead.</p><p>”You don't like eggnog? Well, yolks on you. That's just more for me."</p><p>Wow. Sherlock Holmes, a connoisseur of eggnog puns. John shook his head as the patrons laughed like there’s no tomorrow.</p><p>”Again—” Sherlock began looking around. John observed as those unique pairs of eyes scanned the room, and lit up when it found what it was looking for.</p><p>”You there, Mister.”<br/>
John took a glance at the man Sherlock pointed, sitting far behind, empty packets of cigarettes in front of him.</p><p>The men and women around nudged the man to look at Sherlock, and when he did, Sherlock continued.</p><p>"If you're not laughing at this, you obviously can't take a yolk."</p><p>Everyone laughed once again, but John groaned. Sherlock should stop or they wouldn’t be able to get out of there alive. To John’s surprise though, the man Sherlock dropped his eggnog pun with, laughed louder than everyone.</p><p>It was a couple of minutes before the laughter died. </p><p>”Okay. Here’s the last one,” John heard Sherlock say before the man lazily took a sip on his mug. One beat, two beats, three ...</p><p>"Some eggcellent sips right here."</p><p>An eerie wave of silence followed before the unsuspecting crowd erupted from laughter. Sherlock received pats here and there over his shoulder and his curls. It made John smile when Sherlock removed their hands one by one. But then one of their targets, whom John remembered as Frank, leaned into Sherlock’s personal space making rooting for a kiss. Sherlock turned away, but the man held his wrist.</p><p>John made the move. He strode over, measured steps of a soldier, chin high, senses on alert—he’s had enough. No one touches Sherlock without his consent. It was then that Sherlock looked up and their eyes met, and Sherlock mouthed his name.</p><p>”John,”</p><p>Those luscious lips seductively calling him, are now painted with… a smirk. While not breaking eye contact, John watched as Sherlock pulled Manuel’s arm around his waist, and then spoke into the man’s ear loud enough for those near to hear.</p><p>"If you can't tell by the eggspression on my face, this eggnog is getting me in the holiday spirit."</p><p>Manuel, the wanker, let out a laugh while pulling another man closer to him, whom John recognized as Rufus, their other target. Eventually, their laughter was joined by the crowd. It became louder, that John almost missed the sound of cuffs.</p><p>All of a sudden, the lights went out and John scrambled to ease his eyesight in the dark. He barely saw the silhouette of two men sitting back to back on a chair. He was about to pull his gun from his waistband when a cold hand wrapped around his wrist.</p><p>”What took you so long?” Sherlock grumbled in his ear.</p><p>Before John could answer he was being dragged out into the back exit and the dark alley as sirens wailed in front of the bar.</p><p>••••••</p><p>“The victim was drugged. And the said date-rape drug was in the eggnog? But it wasn’t the drug that killed her?” Greg asked them.</p><p>They were back at HQ and John’s exhaustion had doubled. Even his hard-on deflated already. Good. Or this last meeting would be painful. And he’s had enough on his plate.</p><p>“Should I always repeat myself? I told you everything earlier on the phone. Do try to—” Sherlock began but John cut him off.</p><p>“It was her allergy,”</p><p>Sherlock stared pointedly at him.</p><p>“What?” John braced himself for an explanation. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced. He bowed his head and continued as if it was only him and Sherlock in the room. </p><p>“You asked me earlier what made me take so long? Well, you sent me almost to the southern part of London, to Emily’s family. They told me she forgot her Epi-Pen in her room. After the maid cleaned the room, she found the medicine in a tangle of used clothes in bed. But Emily’s already gone for an hour and can no longer be contacted. But they also assumed that Emily had a back-up so they didn’t worry. What Manuel and Frank did … Four lacerations, but not too deep to die of blood loss. They want her alive. Still, they hadn’t expected the allergic reaction to the drug in the eggnog. And the eggnog itself. They left her to die. Just put those bastards on jail. Can we go now?”</p><p>When no one answered, it was only then that John noticed the silence of the two men in front of him. </p><p>Jesus. He blushed. He didn’t mean to sound like Sherlock. He steadied himself to be contradicted by the mad genius with them.</p><p>But it was Greg who recovered first.</p><p>“Of course, John. Sherlock can do the paperwork tomorrow. Thanks for your help, mate. It was a very long day. Both of you rest.”</p><p>John shook the hand Greg offered. With a nod at Sherlock, Greg immediately left the room. </p><p>John thought it was weird. When John finally turned to look at Sherlock, he audibly swallowed. Sherlock was looking at him like he wanted to undress him right there and then. But then the madman blinked, those eyes returning to its free-condescending-look-to-give, while that mouth gave John the signature pleased smirk.</p><p>“Excellent, John. You are a gem.”</p><p>Sherlock stood up, shrugging on his coat before walking towards the exit. </p><p>“Really?” John asked dubiously, as he followed Sherlock.</p><p>“Mmm. The common one.”</p><p>John rolled his eyes before chuckling.</p><p>“Let’s go home, you git.” He said.</p><p>“Let’s. I need my eggnog-fix.”</p><p>John groaned. </p><p>“No more eggnog jokes. You’ve drunk three!”</p><p>“I only had one.”</p><p>“But the bartender said—”</p><p>“I bought three, but I only had one. I made our criminals drink the two.”</p><p>John stopped walking. He hadn’t thought of that.</p><p>“So, those gestures … slurred voice…eggnog puns?”</p><p>Sherlock glanced at him like he’s no longer a common gem but a rock.</p><p>“Acting. Obviously. Child’s play.”</p><p>John shook his head in disbelief. Once again in awe of Sherlock.</p><p>“Wow. That. Was. Amazing.”</p><p>“Wrong.” </p><p>“What?”</p><p>They reached the cab lane and John raised a hand until a cab made a stop in front of them.</p><p>Sherlock opened the cab’s door for him and John sat inside. </p><p>“What do you mean by ‘wrong’?”<br/>
John asked the man beside him curiously.</p><p>“Because it was eggnog-niably marvelous.”</p><p>John stared at Sherlock, Sherlock stared back at him, and not long before the cab arrived at 221b, the two of them were laughing so hard, they almost forgot to pay the cab.</p><p>John refused to think of what his feelings are about at this moment. As much as he wanted things to turn in a different direction, he couldn’t force Sherlock into it. One thing is for sure, he’s attracted to his best friend. And it might not have a good ending. But he’s more interested in the journey. He’ll enjoy the company for sure.</p><p>“John!” Sherlock bellowed his name from the loo.</p><p>”What?!” John shouted in reply while locking the front door.</p><p>He then turned to see steam pouring out of the bathroom as Sherlock emerged in his grey robe, hair still dripping wet. A towel rests on his shoulder.</p><p>"Does my love of eggnog make me egg-centric?"</p><p>John sighed. No more eggnog for Sherlock indeed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>P.S.<br/>I was researching about eggnog for this entry when I stumbled upon this <a href="https://www.elitedaily.com/p/30-eggnog-puns-for-captions-to-pair-with-your-eggcellent-sippin-selfies-13239150">site</a> which inspired this story.<br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 12/02: Prompt #2: Blanket | gloomy's comfort</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <b>PROMPT #2: BLANKET</b>
</p><p>221b Ficlet: In which Sherlock is down with a flu. 🥺</p><p>Additional Tags: Sherlock is down with a flu and John takes care of him</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The weather outside was humid and dry, with hardly a breeze to ruffle the window curtains of Sherlock's bedroom.</p><p>John had been in and out of there since midnight when Sherlock's temperature went up. If he had not gone downstairs for a glass of water he wouldn't have heard Sherlock moaning in pain.</p><p>John looked at his watch checking the hour of the next dose of Sherlock's medicine. Still an hour left. He'd better whip something warm for Sherlock to eat.</p><p>He was about to stand when a chilling sensation wrapped itself around his left wrist. He looked down to see Sherlock’s hand clinging to his wrist.</p><p>”John...” Sherlock's rough voice caught his attention.</p><p>”Hey, how are you feeling?" John asked gently.</p><p>"Bit alright,"</p><p>John sat down by Sherlock's bedside, fixing the dark green blanket up to Sherlock's neck. He almost combed his fingers through the man's hair if he hadn't stopped himself.</p><p>But Sherlock seemed to sense his hesitation. Sherlock pulled his hand, placing it against the man's warm forehead.</p><p>John smiled as he ran his fingers through the comfort of Sherlock's soft curls.</p><p>Outside, John could hear the distant sound of Christmas carols.</p><p>”Stay?" </p><p>John heard Sherlock asked, voice laced with uncertainty. And John could've melted.</p><p>”Always,” John replied softly as he watched Sherlock burrowed comfortably in his blanket.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 12/03: Prompt #3: Snowmen | the day my snowman came alive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>Prompt #3: Snowmen</b><br/>Addtl. Tags: Parent!lock, Indie</p><p><b>Short summary:</b><br/> <br/>Johnlock and Rosie spends a few days before Christmas to the Holmeses. Miracles do happen—when it is time.</p><p><b>TRIGGER WARNING:</b> John and Sherlock’s thoughts about the events of season 4 and there’s a case where Sherlock’s almost killed. Might be triggering to some.</p><p>This chapter is Parent!lock. &lt;3</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, the result is unexpected.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>• JOHN •</b>
</p><p>John was unloading their luggage from the boot of the rented car when Sherlock emerged from the front holding a bundle of Rosie close to him while closing the door. The heavy thud it made had Rosie giggling in surprise. John watched them with a smile on his face. Two years since they went back to Baker Street, Rosie has grown closer to Sherlock, while he and the man have been fixing the awkward air in between them. Two grown men raising a four-year-old. He doesn’t give a fuck what others would think and Sherlock insisted he and Rosie stay at the flat. Now he’s torn between telling Sherlock that he already found a small cottage or the fact that he already bought it.</p><p>“You three! It’s gonna snow soon! Come inside!”</p><p>He turned toward the source of the voice to find Mrs. Holmes, who insists on calling her Luanne, waving at them. </p><p>Spending Christmas with the Holmes’ isn’t new. But even so, he still couldn’t prevent feeling nervous. </p><p>Christ, Watson, calm the fuck down. Think about everything later.</p><p>“Are you okay?” John was startled by Sherlock's voice, he looked over to see Sherlock behind him. </p><p>He nodded a smile. ”Yeah. I am.” </p><p>The man’s eyes narrow at him. John tried to give his best smile, and it must’ve worked because Sherlock’s eyes relaxed, and John found himself captivated by them. He shook his head, took a deep breath, and smiled at his friend again. This time, it was genuine. And not forced or troubled like what he’d always given Sherlock before.</p><p>“I’m fine, Sherlock. Really.” John said reassuringly.</p><p>The man gave him a nod, content with his answer. “Will you take Rosie? I forgot the presents for my parents.”</p><p>“Sure.” </p><p>He took Rosie off Sherlock’s arms as the latter went back to the car. </p><p>Something about Sherlock … changed.</p><p>Really, Watson? Do you mean to say you didn’t change as well?</p><p>Right. Him as well. He would like to believe he’s changing for the better. The John Watson who’s worth being with Sherlock Holmes. </p><p>After the mess with the man’s sister, Sherlock seems to mellow in everything. Even the derogatory comments start to simmer down into disappointed looks. But the threat of Sherlock being strangled by some of the officers at NSY or practically anyone who shouldn’t be poked by an insult stick is still ongoing.</p><p>And John felt he had to protect Sherlock. It was kind of a surprise that Mycroft hadn’t cornered him for the second time, questioning his loyalties all over again. He deserved that. To be questioned. He did things in the past he deeply regrets.<br/>
With the exception of having Rosie in his life. He might’ve mourn the loss of a wife for Rosie’s sake. But that was it. Contrary to popular belief, John Watson doesn’t forgive and forget. But the things he did that he wasn’t proud of, he’s slowly trying to correct them. Or at least, the mistakes he made towards Sherlock.</p><p>It’s like the two of them had been dancing over a fire. But he had been afraid to take that next step in their relationship. He’d say it began when Sherlock almost got killed while on a case and John’s not with him because Rosie was sick. But that would be an understatement. It was one of his many faults, shelving his feelings to not scare Sherlock. Or to not look like a clown when Sherlock rejected him for real the second time. God, but that life and death case of a serial killer. The suspect was shot in the head by an officer, after the former shot Sherlock three times on the chest. </p><p>John’s heart broke into pieces when Greg called and said Sherlock suffered blood loss and almost didn’t make it. And if not for Molly calling him, volunteering to look after Rosie, so he’d be able to see Sherlock, he wouldn’t calm down. That day all he could think of was Sherlock dying without him asking for forgiveness. When he arrived at the hospital, in Sherlock’s room, that’s where he broke down. He cried by Sherlock’s bedside, kneeling on the floor, not minding the pain on his knees. He cried for his mistakes, his regrets, the times he almost lost Sherlock. And before he knew it, he fell asleep on that spot holding Sherlock’s hand loosely. When he woke up later, it was to Sherlock’s fingers combing his hair. And when their eyes met, John felt that urge he hadn’t felt for a while. The urge to be with someone. Someone to hold at night, to care for, to appreciate, to love. And John bottled every single one of that feeling Sherlock made him feel. He then made a vow to himself to protect the two most important people in his life.</p><p>John closed his eyes at the onslaught of recent memories. That was six months ago.</p><p>So when Mycroft invited him to spend the holidays with the Holmeses in place of him, while he and Greg are on a honeymoon (Surprise! Yeah. Those two. But that’s a story for another day), John accepted.</p><p>And still, he couldn’t help but feel that Mycroft has given him a chance to redeem himself on Sherlock’s parents. </p><p>“John?” </p><p>He blinked in surprise to see Sherlock in front of him. He had gone so far on memory lane that he hadn’t heard the man approach.</p><p>Christ, stop thinking too much.</p><p>John cleared his throat. “Hey,”</p><p>Sherlock regarded him with a look.<br/>
”Hey, yourself. Rosie’s cheeks are turning red. Let’s get her inside.”</p><p>John opened his mouth to reply but when Sherlock playfully raised an eyebrow at him, he shut his mouth again. </p><p>”Right. Of course.” He answered quietly as he hugged a sleepy Rosie closer to him and they proceeded to walk towards the house. </p><p>Overthinking wouldn’t solve things. He should start acting about it. And the holiday is perfect for beginnings.</p><p><b>• SHERLOCK •</b><br/>
Sherlock stretched and yawned lazily as he left the comfort of his bed.</p><p>Dear God, he hasn’t slept that well for months. Years even. He was just glad that John agreed to bring Rosie for the holidays. His parents will have the recuperation time after the clusterfuck that happened with their daughter. </p><p>Sherlock shook his head to forget the onslaught of memories. Now’s not the time for that.</p><p>After a quick shower, he dressed in his casual clothes and went downstairs. The smell of herbs and tea his mother loved to mix came from the kitchen. His parents are still early risers despite the holidays. </p><p>Though when he passed by the living room, found his father fixing the fairy lights over the mantlepiece. His back facing Sherlock, so he still hasn’t noticed he wasn’t alone.</p><p>”Good Morning, Dad.”</p><p>His father turned with a wide smile on his face. ”Oh. Hello, son. Morning.”</p><p>Sherlock hummed. ”Need help?”</p><p>”Nah. I got this. You go to John and Rosie outside.”</p><p>”This early?” Sherlock glanced at the large window, slightly blurred by the cold haze. </p><p>”Mmm. You’d want to put some warmer on. You’d freeze to death on that suit.”</p><p>Sherlock rolled his eyes. ”Of course, I know.”</p><p>His dad stared at him then grinned knowingly. ”Well. Ask your mum if she can take Rosie. So you and John can … You know—”</p><p>”I got Rosie! She had fun making snowmen outside. I’m really glad she’s here with us. Don’t you agree Frederick? Frederick! What on earth are you talking to our son about? He’s as red as the cherries I had picked last week!”</p><p>Sherlock groaned covering his face with both of his hands. Lord, he hasn’t acted like this or been like this since he was in middle school! And as if the morning couldn’t just pass and leave him in bed alone, he heard footsteps from behind him. Of course, who else would it be—</p><p>”Is something the matter? Is Rosie giving you a hard time already?”</p><p>—but of course, it’s John Watson. </p><p>”Oh, no John. She’s a sweetheart. Did she enjoy making snowmen?” Sherlock’s mother asked John.</p><p>”She did. I was just afraid she’d get a cold so I carried her inside. The two piles of snow are still outside. They quite look like us, Sherlock.” John laughed affectionately and Sherlock almost melted.</p><p>”Lovely! Should we have a hot chocolate milk, dear Rosie? Would you like that?”<br/>
His mum asked Rosie. The toddler cooed in return.</p><p>”Sherlock? Are you alright?”</p><p>He didn’t answer. It was only when a few minutes later, he realized his parents had gone with Rosie. Warm fingers slowly pried his own from his face and he’s greeted by the bluest of eyes he’d ever seen, clearly amused.</p><p>”I know… I think I know what you’re thinking. But I don’t want to… ruin this Sherlock. I… Honestly… Want to savor every minute I’ll be able to spend with you… as more than friends. Is that alright? Will you give me that chance Sherlock? Me and Rosie? Will you have us back in your life?”</p><p>Sherlock stared at those blue eyes that captivated him the first day they had met. Those eyes that silence him without speaking. The confidence in that form when his life is in danger, ready to protect him without a second thought. He admits that when Rosie arrived in their lives, John rarely managed to go with him. In between clinics and going home to Rosie so the babysitter could leave, they hadn’t spent that much time together unlike before. </p><p>But Sherlock came to love Rosie as well. She’s a breath of fresh air for the two of them. He tried to change for the child and John as well. And somewhere along the way, John changed too. Both of them, and it’s all because of Rosie. Not long after the toddler arrived, Sherlock got wrapped around her fingers already. And John, John blossomed as a father. But John also becomes a ball of energy when Sherlock lets him go with him.<br/>
Is Sherlock ready? Maybe. Maybe not. But he wouldn’t know if he wouldn’t try, would he?</p><p>”Yes. I’d like that too, John.”</p><p>John’s smile right at that moment was a gift to him and Sherlock tucked that away in his Mind Palace. </p><p>And as John tiptoed reaching for him, Sherlock felt brave enough to wrap his arms around the man for the first kiss that he only dreamed of.</p><p>Certainly not in the living room of his parent's home. But who was he to complain? He’s just Sherlock Holmes, finally allowed to fall in love.</p><p>
  <b>
    <i>• Somewhere outside the house • </i>
  </b>
</p><p>So, the thing is, I was with someone earlier. But then Shorty and Mister Tall Nice Guy knocked my partner over while they made out OVER him. Gross. Who does that? Apparently them. Shudders.</p><p>That leaves me, here, alone, with wooden sticks as a pair of hands, a smelly top hat, and a carrot for a nose, and some bits of black whatever for my eyes.</p><p>And all I can do is stare longingly at those two men on the snow. </p><p>Seriously. They’re snogging like there’s no tomorrow. It’s like they set this goal of melting the snow around them like it isn’t anyone’s business. </p><p>But of course, it’s no one's business. Like it’s no one’s business that I’m alone for Christmas. Snowman sighs.</p><p>
  <b>”Sherlock, did you just knock out MY snowman?”</b>
</p><p>Oh, good. Shorty finally noticed.</p><p><b>”We can always make another one later.”</b> Tall Nice Guy replies breathlessly. </p><p>Well, who wouldn’t be left breathless? Snogging at a negative temperature? Try that one.</p><p><b>”We would?”</b> Shorty asked, balancing his weight carefully on top of Mister TNG. How sweet. Candy canes above. I’d be rolling my eyes if I can. </p><p>
  <b>”Yes. Now, come here and kiss me again.”</b>
</p><p>Good Lord. They’re at it again, I’m out of here. Where’s that sweet little girl? Maybe she can be my partner. Snowman out.</p><p>☃️</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Didn’t see that snowman pov coming. I swear. 😅</p><p>I dedicate this to my comfort fic writer, <a>weneedtotalkaboutsherlock</a>. She just talked me through this chapter and cheered me up. You helped me without you knowing. Thanks so much, dear. 😭🤧</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. 12/04: Prompt #4: Lights | making merry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>PROMPT #4: LIGHTS</b><br/>Addtl. Tags: Established Relationship - Boyfriend<br/> </p><p>  <i>It’s another day at Baker Street, and only a few weeks before Christmas. I have the day-off from the clinic, while Sherlock takes a break from cases. I decide it is time to unpack those decors and put them up. But a certain grumpy detective doesn’t seem to like that idea. </i></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Lo! And behold the scene that finally marks this trash EXPLICIT. Woot!</p><p>Happy reading! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>“How do you even manage to separate these things?”</b>
</p><p>I glance at my boyfriend who’s standing by the mantlepiece trying to untangle the fairy lights from one another. Some of them are over his shoulder while the rest are on the floor as he holds both ends. I abandon the tinsels in my hands, settling my palms on both sides of the storage container, and just watch him.</p><p>Christ, he looks so funny, I can barely hold my laugh.</p><p>It’s another day at Baker Street, and only a few weeks before Christmas. I have the day-off from the clinic, while Sherlock takes a break from cases. I decide it is time to unpack those decors and put them up. But a certain grumpy detective doesn’t seem to like that idea. Although he insists that he will help. That’s his way of saying he’ll pester me. Well, nothing new there.</p><p>“You know, you’ll end up with that all-over you. If you’re not being careful.” I say.</p><p>He snorts and squints his eyes on me. “Really, John? Is that a challenge? I can put this up around twenty.”</p><p>That had me laughing. ”Right. What shall I do while you Master Untangler deals with all of those?” I gesture my hands over the lights. Obviously, in my mind, I already have an idea. And when my eyes met Sherlock’s lust-filled ones, I know we’re on the same page. </p><p>I swallow the lump on my throat, my lips parting as he slowly approaches. The lights all over him are giving the illusion of a Greek god arriving to punish the idiot who dares to question his abilities of fairy lights decorating.</p><p>When Sherlock’s finally in front of me, he drops down to sit on his chair. I am about to protest about the lights breaking but he just waves a hand. </p><p>”I know what you’re thinking, John. They’re fine. My…” He pauses dramatically glancing at his front. ”However… is not. I think we know what you should do?”</p><p>I spare a look at those strong thighs that ridden my face last night and my hard-on pushes through my jeans. </p><p>Fuck. I want that again.</p><p>I clear my throat but still, my voice remains hoarse. </p><p>”Bossy.”</p><p>He only smirks at me before unfastening the ties of his robe. As I kneel between his legs, I slid my hands over his thighs. He shudders, then he takes my hand and puts it over his erection. Bold Sherlock and Bossy Sherlock have always been my favorite.</p><p>He began to work on the lights as I do with mine. And I found my next work tenting the fronts of his silk black boxers.<br/>
I loom over it, nosing the long rigid length, mouthing it slowly, enjoying the slow glide of my lips as I close my eyes inhaling his musky and sweet smell. I rarely approve of perfumes, but Sherlock’s is such a turn on.</p><p>Fuck. I’m so horny now. I glance at my boyfriend once again to find him eyeing me breathlessly. Curls unruly and lips apart. A beautiful sight for sore eyes.</p><p>”<em>John</em>…”</p><p>And when he says my name like that, I know he’s already close to coming. And I’ll gladly help him or torture him for a bit.</p><p>”Curl your fingers over my hair.” I say, my voice dropping to the lowest rumble that I know Sherlock is so hard for.</p><p>A whine escapes his lips as he does what I ask. Those lithe fingers massage the back of my head seductively like he does when he’s giving me a handjob. And all I can do is sigh and hum in appreciation while I guide my lips over his crown.</p><p>And finally, finally. I suckle on his plump head, just easing it out a bit from the waistline of his boxers. The tangy taste of precum makes my head dizzy with lust. I swirl my tongue languidly, marking the undersides of his tip. Marking him mine. He writhes and moans beneath me. Breathing my name like air. Whispering those three words I now live for. My free hand searches for him and he catches it with his. We twine our fingers and I grip him tightly. </p><p>And I know Sherlock knows what I am trying to tell him. That I love him more than I breathe. His thigh muscles flex as he wraps both of his ankles around the back of my legs, showing off its strength.</p><p>I immediately unfasten my jeans fumbling over the zipper and the button, releasing a sigh when my stiff length is free.</p><p>Sherlock taps my shoulder then, I release him and assist him on removing his robe. We move together in silence, in sync like we’ve been doing it for years. The only thing that can be heard if one listens properly is our ragged breathing. </p><p>I carefully remove the fairy lights from his body as he removes his boxers. He folds them, places them on the coffee table then he faces me and my breath holds. </p><p>Just like when he’s clothed, standing full in his naked glory, Sherlock is stunning. He is gorgeous in a way that I can not compare to anyone. He has a handsome face, yes, attractive. Like he can seduce anyone he wants and they will fall on their knees. His beauty takes my breath away. The male Venus de Milo. The contour of his body is a sculptor’s masterpiece. Sharp cheekbones, eyes that are looking at me with vulnerability. And I know that he’s getting nervous again. Like he wants to cover his body with his arms. The said arms twitches and I know I have to reassure him again. Not by words, but by how he makes me feel. Because in Sherlock’s brilliant and chaotic mind, is the walls of insecurities put together by the people who couldn’t keep up with him. And as his best friend, his boyfriend, his other half, I made it my duty to break those walls so he can shine himself. And I intend to do just that. As long as he’ll have me.</p><p>”I feel honored.” I say softly.</p><p>His lips twitch in a small smile as I ran my hands over his arm. </p><p>I release my breath slowly, looking up into his eyes. Staring like a lost puppy as they change into grey, green, blue, and back into grey whenever light passes over it. </p><p>”Happy early first Christmas,” I say and we both smile sappily to one another. He then grins at me mischievously.</p><p>”With you, John. It’s Christmas every day.”</p><p>We stare into each other before bursting into a fit of giggles. </p><p>”Jesus. I hope Mycroft’s not listening.”<br/>
I say as I catch my breath, still grinning like a fool.</p><p>”No. He’d better be." He says, and I look at him inquisitively. </p><p>"Because I plan on screaming my lungs out while I ride you, John.” </p><p>Those words and the way he says it. Bloody hell.</p><p>”Raise you to the bedroom?” He asks afterward when it seem as though he succeeds in making me speechless.</p><p>”Oh, you’re on.” I say.</p><p>As Sherlock runs to the bedroom, I pick up his clothes. It is then I notice the discarded fairy lights. Smiling to myself, I call out to Sherlock.</p><p>”Sherlock! You lost the challenge!”</p><p>A mop of raven curls peeks itself from the bedroom door.</p><p>”What challenge?”</p><p>”The fairy lights,” I say, waggling my eyebrows.</p><p>Sherlock rolls his eyes as he gives me the don’t-be-stupid-John look.</p><p>”They’re broken, John. Surely you have noticed why I didn’t put it up?” </p><p>What. the. actual. fuck? I am about to say something when he shouts from the room again.</p><p>”You can just buy it later!” </p><p>”Me?! Really?” I stand there looking dumb.</p><p>”But then you—”</p><p>Sherlock’s head pokes again and shrugs, before sighing helplessly.</p><p>”Yes, John Watson. I want a blowjob. Now finish what you’ve started before you go to buy those … things.” He says distractedly as I made a show of stroking my cock as it juts out of my fly.</p><p>He huffs a breath then goes back to the bedroom.</p><p>Fixing my jeans, I toss a look at the broken fairy lights. And just looking at it brings back the memory of our first Christmas together. The first huge argument about a guy I had a date with. The realization that every guy I dated isn’t right. Because it has been Sherlock Holmes my heart has wanted since we’ve met. </p><p>Then the first kiss, my first blowjob to him, me being his ’first’. How Sherlock trembled beneath me. Hell, I don’t even know why I’m being sentimental over a set of lights. Maybe because I’m sentimental. But memories are more important. Places will fade, things will get destroyed, memories can be forgotten. But the heart remembers. Always. Painful or good, it will remain as long as the the heart is beating.</p><p>Fuck, I am sentimental.</p><p>”John!” Sherlock calls out.</p><p>Oh, well. I guess, out with the old, in with the new. </p><p>”Sherlock Holmes, what will I do with you?” I shout back.</p><p>A muffled <em>”Blow me!”</em> comes from the bedroom. </p><p>I grin to myself as I walk inside the bedroom placing his clothes at the foot of his bed. Sherlock lay naked on it, stroking his rigid cock. Damn. I move out of my clothes faster than I remember spelling ”Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” until I am as naked as him. Then I crawl on top of him settling in between his legs. </p><p>And as his arms wrap around my neck, I say my reply against the warmth of his lips.</p><p>”That, I will.” Because I aim to do just that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. 12/05: Prompt #5: Grinch | the Grinch’s Christmas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>PROMPT #5: Grinch</b><br/>Addtl. Tags: Established Relationship - Boyfriend</p><p>  <i>Everything will be alright as long as John is here with him, Sherlock contemplates.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>John Hamish Watson. His own definition of Christmas.</i></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The Grinch: Wake up.<br/>Me: *glances at my phone, 5:45AM? What the actual fuck? * Oi, FUCK off.<br/>The Grinch: Alright. Suit yourself. I knew you’ll end up Grinch-less for the prompt of the day. *evil grin*<br/>Me: UGH. Fuck you. *grabs phone* Lay it on me.<br/>The Grinch: *grins triumphantly, sprawls itself on the mentally conjured bed* It all starts with Anderson being high and mighty—</p><p>Me: Oh, fuck. I’m not going to like this am I? Carry on then.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You've got to be fucking kidding me. He’s not even dressed yet! Where’s that bloody costume?!”</p><p>"Anderson, just shut up for a minute okay?”</p><p>Sherlock heard John say from the doorway. Still, he didn’t move from his chair. He's not going to parade in hospital halls dressed as a green hairy, pot-bellied, pear-shaped, snub-nosed creature with a cat-like face and cynical personality. They do share a few qualities nonetheless. They both loathe the holidays. He sniffs. Holidays remind him of parties full of strangers when he and Mycroft were younger. He despises them. But when your parents are corporate people, you have no choice. </p><p>"Sherlock?"</p><p>A firm warm hand drops on his left shoulder making him shudder. He hadn't heard John approach. Sneaky like a cat. But really he isn’t paying attention.</p><p>"Are you not okay with this?" John asks him. He observes John’s reflection from the mirror. He often does that when John isn’t paying attention to him. There is a solemn look on John’s face. John knew of course. Before they entered a relationship, he shamelessly spilled all about his anxiety attacks when he was younger. Even his juvenile addiction that one he wasn’t proud of. John did the same. They sat on their respective chairs getting wasted while listening to each other’s sob story. And for some reason at the end of it all. John still told him, he loves him.</p><p>"Oi, don't be a real grinch Holmes!" Anderson shouts from the stairs. Expect Anderson to ruin his mood.</p><p>”Don’t pay attention to him, Sherlock. Just focus on the task at hand.”</p><p>He sighs. Fine. Just for John. </p><p>He looks at his boyfriend (that ludicrous term still makes him feel ... utterly euphoric). Sandy blonde hair with a touch of grey, John told him it was genetic. Blue eyes that remind him of the summer sky. Firm but gentle hands that carefully stitch him back whenever he's wounded. He feels so much for John that sometimes it is hard to breathe. </p><p>He takes a deep breath and whispers the words most unlikely to be heard from him still.</p><p>"I love you," He says quietly, and it was all worth it, as John gifts him with a smile that always lightens up the dark corners of his Mind Palace.</p><p>"I love you too," John replies before grinning at him. The man has an aura of excitement that is almost palpable, it makes him feel ... a bit ... festive. Sherlock turns to his side to hide a grimace. </p><p>”Now, will you dress as the Grinch for those patients in the Children's Hospital?" John asks him eagerly.</p><p>Dear God, the things he’ll do for the man.<br/>
He glances at his boyfriend, sitting at the armrest of his chair, smiling and waiting like a puppy. </p><p><em>Oh!</em> Of course. There <b>IS</b> an adequate way to make Anderson suffer for bringing up this notion, and John <b>will</b> approve. They need him for this. </p><p>He stands up with newfound vigor, grinning like a Cheshire-cat. </p><p>”Only <em><b>if</b></em> Anderson will be Max.”</p><p>An overbearing silence follows before his boyfriend laughs carefreely.</p><p>Everything will be alright as long as John is here with him, Sherlock contemplates.</p><p><em>John Hamish Watson</em>. His own definition of Christmas.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Disclaimer: Sherlock’s Grinch’s description came from Wiki as per Dr. Seuss’ illustration. I don’t own any of it. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. 12/06: Prompt #6: Fire | in his arms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>PROMPT #6: Fire <br/>Addtl. Tags: Established Relationship - Boyfriend</p><p>  <i>Right there and then, John realizes, this is what he wants. Forever with Sherlock. </i></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Even I didn’t see this coming.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>"I vividly remember the last time I saw John sitting on his chair facing the waning flames of our fireplace. That morning was a gloomy one and we were both woken up by his insistent coughing. I got up to get the cough syrup but he said that he’d like a tea instead.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>”And so, we went downstairs to make some. But I noticed that time that John was being slow. Like he was savoring that moment.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>”I've always loved ... walking with him, having tea with him, exchanging stories of our old cases or talking about trivial things. Taking our time with every step. Giggling when we almost skipped one. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>”But that morning was wrapped in silence. We did not want to talk. We were just ... there. Side by side. Like both of us are waiting for the other shoe to drop.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>”I was about to go to the kitchen when he gripped my arm and told me, ’I love you, my darling. And I treasure every single day that I have you in my life.’</i>
</p><p>
  <i>”And at that time, I felt this strong intuition, which I thought wasn't possible. I am a man of science after all. Everything that happens has an explanation. But that moment, that moment when you want to stop time and go back to prevent something from happening. I wish I could. So I just told him ... 'You, my love, is the change that I never thought would ever happen in my life.'</i>
</p><p>
  <i>”And we just stared into each other’s eyes. No words needed. Because we already felt it.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>”I led him slowly into his chair. He was complaining about his hip and his limp.<br/>
As I walk away I felt his eyes on me. And I jokingly said we weren’t in our thirties anymore. And the moment he laughed ... it was so ... vibrant like I felt it resonate inside of me and made me laugh as well. His last request was a serving of cookies Hailey made for us. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>”It was the longest ten minutes of my life. And that ... that intuition that I felt earlier. I was afraid to face it. I was afraid to turn around and see what it made me feel. But I did. I walked towards him ... with his tea ... and the cookies he wanted. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>”I called his name as loud as I can but he didn’t answer. I just told myself he just couldn’t hear me. So, I rushed to his side and hugged him tightly. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>”But no... I couldn’t hear my favorite sound anymore. The sound that calms me down at night. That helps me fall asleep. I couldn’t hear John’s heartbeat.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>”My beloved, my best friend, my partner, my husband, John Taylor Evans went into a deep sleep on his chair, and I know I will never be the same again.” </i>
</p><p>•••</p><p>”Are you crying?”<br/>
John asks the man cuddling by his side. He reaches out to wipe away the tears streaking down his boyfriend’s cheeks. </p><p>
  <i>That is so fucking adorable.</i>
</p><p>”Shut up, John.”</p><p>John frowns. ”Oi, I’m not saying anything.”</p><p>”You’re thinking I’m adorable.”</p><p>His mouth parts in awe. ”How did you know that?”</p><p>Sherlock gives him a small triumphant smile. ”You just confirmed it.” </p><p>”Bloody hell.”</p><p>Then John watches Sherlock sniff again as the main character, which also happens to be a detective, Devon Evans, delivers the final sentence of his eulogy for his late husband. Maybe it’s a really bad idea to watch the final sequel of this trilogy. But it’s his favourite. Now he feels guilty.</p><p>”Oh, Sherlock. Come here, love.”</p><p>But Sherlock only glares at him. Cute. Grumpy detective in pyjamas with otter designs glaring like a four-year-old. God, even Sherlock’s eccentricity makes John want to drop to his knees and—<i>Rein yourself, Watson. Now’s not the time.</i></p><p>John clears his throat. ”You are the one who suggested a movie night. And now you’re angry?”</p><p>Sherlock just glares at him again then pulls out a tissue from the holder.</p><p>”I thought we’re gonna watch that Christmas movie with explosions!”</p><p>John runs a hand over his face to hide his laugh.</p><p>”Jesus. That again? We’ve already watched that ten times!”</p><p>Sherlock pouts. Of course, John gives in. He just can’t.</p><p>So, John takes the remote control from Sherlock to browse for the movie.</p><p>It is only when he hit play that Sherlock cuddles back to his chest. John wraps his arms around Sherlock tightly, resting his chin over his boyfriend’s soft curls. Sherlock’s arms tighten around him in return. And when their hearts start to beat in sync, only then John hears Sherlock speak. </p><p>”I love you,” whispers Sherlock.</p><p>John kisses Sherlock’s curls, while his free hand reaches for the blanket behind the couch. John then wraps them both in it.<br/>
”I love you more,” He murmurs in reply.</p><p>Right there and then, John realizes, this is what he wants. Forever with Sherlock. He smiles at himself as his thoughts drift away to the small purple box hidden on one topmost drawer of his closet. He’ll pull that one out soon, for now, he’ll enjoy listening to one of his favourite sounds. Sherlock’s soft snore over Mrs. Hudson’s Christmas songs playlist.</p><p>••••••</p><p>The warmth of the fire from the fireplace continues to warm the two men as they fall asleep on the couch. The bowl of popcorn and the cans of soda and beers are forgotten while the movie credit rolls.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. 12/07: Prompt #7: Candy Canes | sweetest surprise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>Prompt #7: Candy Canes</b><br/>Addtl. Tags: Established Relationship - Boyfriend<br/> <br/><b>Short Summary:</b></p><p> <br/>EXPLICIT. And AGAIN, Not Beta Read. Go figure. This honestly gave me a headache. 😂</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Basically, my excuse to write lame porn, once again. 🤤</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <i>Shopping. </i>
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</p><p>Sherlock crinkles his nose in disgust at the thought of what he and John are about to do. He hates shopping. Oh, how he despises it. People everywhere. That’s the reason why he sends John outside instead. Speaking of his boyfriend, the man walks ahead of him, which is something he's still getting used to. It seems as though John made himself ”The Bodyguard”, responsible to protect him all the time, at all costs, even more so that they are on a new level of their relationship. Sherlock’s face softens at the thought.</p><p>He silently watches the man shop around. Being with John is something Sherlock had not to expect to happen. </p><p>He just ... did. </p><p>John comes into his life, saving him, fitting in, understanding him, no matter how boring and ordinary the man is from the start. Ever since they met, Sherlock’s focus became all about John. The way John moves, John smiles, John laughs, even when John’s face becomes red when angry. Oh, Sherlock loves that. When John goes ”soldier” on him. He might’ve done some things before on purpose just to rile up John like the burning of the good ol’ jeans, but he didn’t honestly mean them. Just for science.</p><p>Even Mycroft enjoys teasing him about John. And for the first time in their adult lives, Sherlock allows. </p><p>Even his Mind Palace hasn’t been a mess since John made himself comfortable in its halls. John this, John that, John—his trail of thoughts are momentarily interrupted by the familiar rough hand sliding into his left one, said fingers twining with his. Sherlock can feel his face blush like a schoolgirl with her crush. Ugh. He doesn't <i>crush.</i> Not until—John. He admits that the first time he saw John, the traits of an army soldier slamming into him like a freight train. And he is so in for that. But not really into that. Just, you know ...soldiers. Those fit uniforms. Sherlock’s lips twitch as he tries to hide a grin.</p><p>John’s hand then squeezes him to get his attention. He gazes to his side meeting John’s gorgeous eyes. They are vivid blue today, like the Aegean sea. Sherlock’s favorite color at the moment. Oh, an ode to John’s blue eyes. He’ll certainly write one later.</p><p>”Alright?” John asks him, before dropping a gentle kiss on the back of his hand.  </p><p>Sherlock doesn’t trust himself to speak at the moment so he just nods a bit. He’s that dramatic. So, they went on to the cashier to pay. </p><p>They are passing the baby section of the store when Sherlock’s eyes trail into something he never thought he’ll want to hold with both hands this bad. He blinks. He’s not particularly happy about Christmas. Because, obviously, people, like right now ... Those people should remove themselves to the kiosk he is eyeing about because he absolutely wants to hold that—</p><p>”Candy canes? Really, Sherlock?” says John’s voice, from behind him.</p><p>Whoopsie. Busted. He glances at John over his shoulder to find the man looking at him, amusement dancing in those eyes. He gives John a tight smile.</p><p>”Mrs. Hudson loves them. You should buy some.”</p><p>Oh, God. No, no, no, no. Dear Lord.</p><p>He turns his head in the other way to hide a grimace. He shouldn’t have said that. Another swarm of children wearing Santa costumes starts to run towards the little shop and Sherlock almost topples over them if not for John grabbing him on the wrist.</p><p>”Hey, are you alright? What’s going on with you?”</p><p>Nothing. Just want to be fucked, by you, hard.</p><p>Sherlock shakes his head then takes a deep breath. He faces John, concern evident from the man’s eyes. </p><p>”You look flushed.”</p><p>The man then places the back of his hand on Sherlock’s forehead, then neck, and if that hand even lowers he can’t be held responsible for what he’ll do.</p><p>”I’m fine, John.” He says. Of course. That’s the excellent time for his voice to sound hoarse. </p><p>He watches helplessly as John leans back a little bit and eyes him suspiciously. Those eyes then glance at the kiosk, back at him, and again at the kiosk—and dear Lord, he can die right now, back at him for the last time. And ... And dares to grin at him?</p><p>This man. Oh, if only <i>the</i> Sherlock Holmes isn’t in love with him! </p><p>”So, candy canes, huh?” John says, smirking at him.</p><p>”Shut up, John Watson. That’s highly inappropriate.” He mutters under his breath.</p><p>”Excuse you? I am not the one who’s looking at the candy canes like you want to stick them into y—”</p><p>Sherlock covers John’s mouth so fast, some of the shoppers scatter around them in surprise. Sherlock plasters a fake smile on his face.</p><p>”Sorry! Nothing to see! Just my ... thing, being ... him,” Sherlock exclaims, while he headlock’s his boyfriend who's now struggling not to laugh and die of asphyxiation at the same time. Eventually, they made it out to the less people-y section.</p><p>Sherlock lets John go, but immediately grabs the hand of the man, half walking and half-running, as they cross the exit of the store. A loud snort comes from behind and John glares at his boyfriend who's laughing at him like there’s no tomorrow.</p><p>••••••</p><p>The rectangular box that sits in front of him at the table is something Sherlock didn’t expect to see when he arrives that evening from NSY. A brief visit was needed. Managing to place the take-outs with a flourish beside the box, Sherlock eyes the thing.</p><p>By observing, it is, without a doubt, a present.</p><p>Because A, the wrapper is a fancy Christmas one and B, it says, ”For you, Sherlock. Signed, With Love, John.”</p><p>Sherlock drags the chair from under the table then sits on it. He strokes a finger over the smooth edges of the box when a sound from the stairs captures his attention. He sees John coming down the stairs, then afterward settles standing against the back of the man's chair. Ankles crossed, arms over his chest, looking delicious and damp from the shower. His kind of John. Desire flares up inside him with a sudden push. </p><p>Sherlock bit his lower lip when John seize his gaze while slowly dropping a seductive smile. Sherlock senses himself growing hard against his tight trousers. </p><p>And when John stalks toward him like a lion to his prey, Sherlock welcomes him. </p><p>John’s kisses are like flames spreading all over his body. It makes him want to get naked and be consumed by it. By the time John releases his lips, Sherlock’s so ready to come. But apparently, John has other plans for him.</p><p>”Open the box, Sherlock. Hurry. I want to see it in you,”</p><p>Sherlock whimpers, whatever John’s gift is, he’ll appreciate it. And when he finally gets the box to open, Sherlock’s jaw drops in awe.</p><p>Inside are a pair of candy canes, lying softly against the soft white fabric. At least, its design is a candy cane and each has about 8 inches length. The only difference of these candy canes from the ones he saw earlier at the store, these aren't edible. Sherlock blushes as he realizes what he is looking at. They are candy canes pleasure wand. </p><p>”Like it?” John murmurs against his ear, and Sherlock nods. He admits he's a bit of an adventurous bloke at uni before. But he hasn't really tried having one of these inside him. The thought of John claiming him one day with this made him shiver in anticipation. A hand snakes inside his buttoned shirt and Sherlock leans back against John, tips his head to the side when John starts kissing his neck. And when John bit his sensitive spot, Sherlock arches, his arse pushing into the hard length hiding behind John’s robe. They moan in unison as Sherlock’s hand finds that cock poking at him. If there’s one thing that he finds addictive other than a seven percent solution, it is sex with John Watson.</p><p>”Suck me off,” John orders, in that captain's voice of his, making Sherlock shudder. His knees hit the kitchen floor before John finishes to order him.</p><p>Sherlock parts the robe revealing John’s cock. A rare 8, cut and thick, with veins running from the base to the other side, it never fails to make Sherlock’s mouth water. He ran his hands over John’s thighs, before leaning in. He kisses the head of John’s cock then lazily twirls his tongue over the leaking slit. Above him, John’s head was thrown back, lips parting, as Sherlock did the move again. </p><p>Sherlock kneels properly, sliding his hand towards John’s chest, while his mouth is busy marveling at John’s taste. He plays his fingers over John’s left nub, pinching it until it hardens, leaving John groaning, hips almost punching forward. Oh, John. Time to let go. </p><p>”Sherlock, stop teasing—nnngh—Fuck!”</p><p>Sherlock triumphs as he feels John’s hands held the back of his head. Time to make his man come. He braces himself as John begins to pump eagerly in his mouth. He gags a bit and John lets him go. He leans again but then John stops him.</p><p>”Bedroom? You’ll hurt your knee down there.”</p><p>Not waiting for his answer, John pulls him up, leading him to their room. </p><p>•••••</p><p>By the time John's two fingers breaches through the tightness of his arse and has it loosen, Sherlock is already a naked hot mess of sweat and precum oozing inside his boyfriend’s mouth from their glorious position. And the cock in his mouth is something that Sherlock wants to have. Now. </p><p>”J-John... Please..” He begs, no time to be proper at this moment.</p><p>His boyfriend releases his cock before helping him lie on his back. </p><p>”Want the wand?” John asks him in between breaths.</p><p>Did he want the wand? He’s been having lewd thoughts about the shape of it that he did want that earlier. But now? All he wants is John’s cock swaying proudly in his line of sight. That. He wants that.</p><p>So, he shakes his head. Maybe next time.</p><p>”Let’s save it for another time, John. I appreciate the thought of the gift but I really want to ride you. Now. If it’s not a bother. ” Sherlock demands making John chuckle.</p><p>With John comfortably on the bed, Sherlock licks his lower lip as he straddles over John. Then he reaches behind for John’s cock, the move that had John hissing. Sherlock then positions his arse into John’s tip, while his lover holds his hip. </p><p>”Open those cheeks for me, love.”<br/>
John orders, Sherlock follows.</p><p>And slowly but surely, with Sherlock’s loose hole, John slides halfway home. They both breathe heavily as Sherlock tries to even his breath as he pushes down further. </p><p>”Fuck! Fuck—Jesus!”</p><p>”I’d rather not, John.”</p><p>Their giggles turn into groans as Sherlock begins riding John’s cock in earnest.</p><p>And then everything else around Sherlock just fades. It all becomes a background. Walls that are now so far away from him. No thoughts of cases, of shooting up, of failing. Having John in him grounds him. All he can feel is John. His mind, body, and soul. And when John held his cock, bringing him into orgasm, as John came inside him. Nothing else matters. Just the two of them, right at this moment.</p><p>•••••</p><p>Two rounds and one hot shower sex later. They now lay in bed both feeling euphoric.</p><p>”Sherlock Holmes, cuddle addict.”<br/>
John whispers against his curls.</p><p>”I’m afraid I don’t have the energy to argue. But I’m awake enough to say, ”I love you,” Sherlock lazily replies while he makes himself comfortable in John’s arms. He’s already asleep when John murmurs his reply, but Sherlock already knows that. Outside, a cab stops in front of 221 flat as the distant sound of busy streets, lull the two men to sleep.</p><p>•••••</p><p>Mrs. Hudson shakes her head when the front doors open. The boys left it again unlocked. She sighs dramatically as she places the food containers over the kitchen table she brought home from her visit to her sister.</p><p>”Yoohoo! Boys! I’m back! I have news for you, John! Did you know my sister reads your blog? And they were so excited to read your—”</p><p>Mrs. Hudson pauses in her monologue (of course she knows what her boys were up to) when he sees a beautiful glass ornament (that’s what she thinks) on the table. She flips the box and reads John’s written note on Sherlock. </p><p>”Oh! Oh, John. This is so sweet. What a lovely ornament! Better display this on the Christmas tree below! For sure, Sherlock wouldn’t mind. Later boys!”</p><p>And she’s gone downstairs. Meanwhile, when Sherlock and John wake up a few hours later, looking sappy into each other’s eyes, they totally forgot John’s gift. </p><p>And not after a few days while having guests in the flat, for their annual exchange gift party, that they will remember it.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. 12/08: Prompt #8: Jumpers | stolen favorites</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>PROMPT #8: JUMPERS</b><br/>Addtl. Tags: Indie, canon divergence </p><p>  <b>Short Summary:</b></p><p>A meaningful flashback and then the present day. As always, Not Beta Read. Thanks for reading!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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    <b>Belgrade, Serbia<br/>
(December 2013)</b>
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</p><p>A loud crackle from the miniature speaker echoed throughout the room where Sherlock finished the documents he’ll be sending tomorrow for Mycroft to deal with. He perked up from what he was doing to the TV-sized monitor hanging to the wall at his left. Someone visited him. </p><p>When the Fall happened, almost two years ago, Mycroft insisted they install hidden devices to monitor who will visit his grave. To make sure that the men Moriarty left in London will be caught once they set foot near Sherlock’s grave. But so far, nothing. The few who visited him are his parents, for ’show’ of course. There’s Molly, who brought him a cup of black coffee sometimes. Mike, who always gets teary-eyed whenever he visited. Mrs. Hudson, who always replaced the lilies on his vase. And of course, the man who’d just arrived.</p><p>The lone figure stood in front of his ”gravesite”. As much as he wanted to continue working, Sherlock can't. For he knew who the person was. For only one person would spend Christmas with him despite the circumstances. </p><p>His best friend John Watson, stood in front of his grave just like the man did a year ago. But for John to be there, again, he had no idea why. The man only visited him twice since the Fall; Christmas, when John barely stood for a good ten minutes, murmured a ’Merry Christmas, Sherlock’ then left, and on his birthday, which John stayed a bit longer, telling him stories about finding a new person which seemingly helped the man cope with missing him, John’s words, not his. Sherlock’s lips curls in annoyance. So, John had found a new beau. He doesn’t have a say in that, so he just listened to the man gossip on and on about how perfect she was. Until one day, John stopped telling things about her. Sherlock presumed the beau didn’t last. He had to admit though, he felt a bit relieved about it. </p><p>But still whoever John chose he doesn’t have the right to sulk about it. He’s the one being on a confidential mission after all. He’s the one who left. All he needed to do was focus. Even if he had to forget John. Even if he had to hurt him, unintentionally, of course.</p><p>Sherlock spared the monitor a glance once again. To John who’s now complaining about Greg pestering him to join the NSY investigative team. A sense of longing enveloped him. He shook his head as he filed the work and sent it to Mycroft’s e-mail.</p><p>Sherlock stood up from his chair, ready to call it a night. He wouldn’t be able to celebrate after all. Finishing last reports before his final part of the mission proceeds tomorrow has always been a pain ever since he began working with the different branches of the British secret service to disintegrate Moriarty’s men. He tapped the lamp off and walked toward the door when John’s words stopped him on his track.</p><p>”Have I told you how cruel you are? Sherlock Holmes?”</p><p>Well, that’s a first. The man only sang praises of him on a visit. Sherlock turned properly, to face his former best friend. He walked toward the panel over his table, turning the speaker volumes a bit.</p><p>”Leaving like that. Leaving me to bury you. Leaving me to deal with everything—alone.” </p><p>Sherlock held a cringe when John emphasized the last word.</p><p>”Leaving me to grieve for you. When… what? Where are you, Sherlock? I know you’re bloody listening, you git.</p><p>”Mycroft told me. Mycroft told me everything.”</p><p>Sherlock stilled. Mycroft did what?</p><p>”You think I wouldn’t know, don’t you? That you’re alive? That you did that to save me? Mrs. Hudson? Greg? And you think I’d be stupid enough? To be killed like that? What do you think of me, Sherlock? I was a former soldier!”</p><p>”But there’s a sniper, John.”</p><p>Sherlock accidentally answered and he watched when this time it was John who stilled. And it propelled him to move to the panel to turn off the small switch he might’ve accidentally turned on. Maybe John would think he was only hallucinating because he’s drunk. Sherlock’s hand hovers over the small red button near the blinking green one when John speaks again.</p><p>”Oh, fuck you. Fuck—You can still talk.” Sherlock watched as John ran a hand over his face in frustration before his shoulders slouched, a gesture of defeat...</p><p>”Good. You’re still alive. That’s—”</p><p>Tears fell from John’s eyes but Sherlock tried to prevent his own. For he knew if he began, he’ll never be able to stop. So, Sherlock remained there watching. </p><p>”I will cut this shit short, alright? Whatever happened, we’ll discuss that. But obviously, not here. So—You listen to me, Sherlock Holmes. You bloody listen well.”</p><p>Sherlock absently nodded. Still staring on John’s eyes now directed at the upper corner of the epitaph, when earlier it was filled with sadness, now it was full of determination.</p><p>“You’ll come back to me. I’m not mad at you. Just frustrated and disappointed. But whatever happens, you’ll come back to me. I’ve grieved enough Sherlock. Please.</p><p>“You’ll come back to me alive, you hear me?” John’s voice cracked and so as Sherlock’s heart.</p><p>Sherlock slowly sat on his chair, one hand gripping the armrest tightly, while the other hand absently reached for the table’s side drawer where he kept something that shouldn’t be there.</p><p>No. Sherlock badly needed to cry. For months he held his emotions in check for the success of this mission. There’s only one left but… But this… this was another unexpected change. Sherlock thought he’d be spared from this. But he was so wrong. And he couldn’t hold it anymore. </p><p>His hand finally closes to the lone fabric stashed inside. Through the years it became softer from being used regularly. And Sherlock had always marveled at how it felt against his skin. The first time Sherlock saw John wearing it, he thought the man looked even more ordinary, dull, boring. He even had the jumper undergo different experiments from which John wasn't really enthused about. But time passed, and Sherlock’s obsession toward the jumper became directed to the one who wears it. Like how John's smile makes him reciprocate. How John’s eyes seem to darken when Sherlock comes out of the bathroom. When Sherlock noticed the different scents from the fabric. John’s scents mixed with mild detergent.  Back then, Sherlock was even confused as to why he’s beginning to feel things towards John. But all of that went to be shelved aside when the Fall happened. </p><p>Sherlock gripped the soft fabric close to his chest. And it’s as if John could see what he’s doing...</p><p>“So. I know you have it. My jumper. The oatmeal one. That’s my favorite. Did you know… that was the sign I realized something else was going on?” </p><p>John’s voice sounds thick and Sherlock just noticed John isn’t wearing any jacket but his usual burgundy cardigan. Sherlock deduced John might’ve left in a hurry.</p><p>“Because I know, apart from me, you’re the only one who’s fond of my jumpers, Sherlock. And I hadn’t worn it for almost two years? I just noticed it was missing yesterday. I was so focused on grieving. And that’s when I realized as well, that I was so stupid. It took me this long. You have to be gone this long for me to come to that conclusion. I guess you’re right. I’m really stupid.”</p><p>“No, John… That was a joke.” Sherlock murmured. He knew it wasn't safe on his side yet. But being able to talk to John again, after so long. Seeing him with a small smile on his face. Sherlock did that. Sherlock made John smile again. </p><p>“Yeah? I just realized that I’m in love with you, Sherlock Holmes. Like just now. A few hours ago at least.” John chuckled, but his eyes were brimming with tears. </p><p>And that’s when Sherlock’s own began to fall. That’s when he allowed his chest to ache. For a long time, it wanted to explode. From anger, from pain, from being robbed by Moriarty. Moriarty’s death robbed him of something he could’ve had. Something he left grieving.</p><p>Sherlock buried his face in John's jumper and cried. He cried for ’what if’s’ and the ’almosts’. For the times that he stopped himself from following his heart.</p><p>“Tell me… Tell me again?” Sherlock whispered. His voice muffled from the fabric. But John knew him, and he heard that plea, a thousand miles away.</p><p>“I love you, Sherlock Holmes. You’re an idiot. But you’re mine. And I will wait for you. No matter how long. I will wait for you. Just be safe, Sherlock. Be safe for me. Okay? And no jumping off rooftops anymore.”</p><p>The rooftop… he remembered not being able to hear what John said over the phone. Because he was already feeling the pain of not being able to tell John that he’s also…</p><p>“John…” He needs to tell John. He needs to say something.</p><p>“John,”</p><p>“I know.” </p><p>Fresh tears fell from his eyes as he raised his head to look at his beloved. Sherlock Holmes is in love, and now he can say it freely.</p><p>“I know, Sherlock. You don’t have to say it now. But you already made me feel it. And that’s more than words.</p><p>”I miss you so much. I was so alone. But not anymore. Because you’ve found me, again. I can save lives over and over, Sherlock. But you’re the only one who can save me from me.</p><p>”Come back to me, love. That’s all I need.”</p><p>And with that John turned after wiping his tears away and Sherlock follows suit. He walked towards the monitor, John’s jumper still clutched against his chest, while he watched John Watson walk away from him for the last time in his life. </p><p>•••••</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>Present Day<br/>
(December 2020)</b>
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</p><p>”Sherlock! Cab’s here!”</p><p>”In a minute!”</p><p>Sherlock rummaged through his drawer to find the thing he was looking for.</p><p>A knock on the door made him move quicker than he should have while pulling the thing under John’s white shirts.</p><p>”Hey, lo—Sherlock. Oh. That’s the original one.”</p><p>”Mmm?”</p><p>Sherlock’s head peeked out of the neck hole just as John stood in front of him.</p><p>”I had it resized a month ago… and then it came back earlier this month? You err… You remember the night when..” He trailed on. John would catch up. He always did.</p><p>The night when he found out via John’s confession that his cover had been blown.</p><p>It wasn’t after two months that Sherlock was able to go back to London. His body was marked with wounds from a battle he fought alone. Moriarty’s network was dead, and John was the one who had nursed him back to health. It was an ordeal. Telling John everything, Mycroft was the unwilling witness to John’s anger. But in the end, John forgave them both. Because the only thing that mattered then was Sherlock being alive and back to London. After that John sent Mycroft away to deal with the press and with the order of not to let anyone of those vultures near them. </p><p>When Sherlock finally healed, John asked him to be his boyfriend. And Sherlock agreed. The night they had their first sex, John was so patient with him. Healing wounds and .. well, he’s inexperienced, generally. The memories made Sherlock blush. But John didn’t seem to pay attention because he’s busy ogling Sherlock wearing his jumper.</p><p>He talked no more when John nodded and hummed thoughtfully, looking up into his eyes.</p><p>”I remember. What a night before Christmas it had been.”</p><p> ”What a night, indeed.” Sherlock agreed with a smile.</p><p>”Let’s go?”</p><p>Sherlock grinned, then leaned down placing a swift gentle kiss towards John’s lips, still feeling ecstatic that he can do that. ”Let’s.”</p><p>He reached out for John’s hand as they made their way out of the flat wearing the same design of jumpers. They passed by Mrs. Hudson who’s sitting in her favorite chair, while her old turntable plays her favorite Christmas songs. They waved at her and she waved back, shooing them off with the gesture of her frail hands. They owe the strength of their relationship to Mrs. Hudson who never gave up on them. Who guided them through dealing with late-night arguments, what with their differences. Teasing them when they meet her down the next morning when they were able to ’talk things up’. For sure she knows what really transpired behind flat 221B’s doors. </p><p>As the London weather started to chill, their hands connected them to each other's warmth as they made their way to the pavement.</p><p>Giggling and chatting about anything they find funny as they reach the cab that will take them to Angelo’s to celebrate their sixth anniversary as a couple. Some passersby looked at them like they were idiots. But that’s okay. Sherlock thought. They were each other’s idiots anyway.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. 12/09: Prompt #9: Wrapping | wrapped up in you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>PROMPT #9: Wrapping </b><br/> Addtl. Tags: Established Relationship - Boyfriend</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Short Summary:</b></p><p> </p><p>An ordinary day in the lives of the occupants of 221b.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not my best writing. Such a shitty day yesterday and today—something happened IRL that had my anxiety triggered. I’m sorry to have failed you guys. :(</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>•• JOHN ••</b>
</p><p>John took the steps of 221B one foot at a time.</p><p>It’s close to nine in the evening. And he was so knackered. Working extra hours at the clinic during December has always been a pain. But he loved his job. It’s his sworn duty after all. Nowadays, he’s content with treating cough and colds and minor injuries. With the occasional use of his surgeon skills whenever Sherlock dances between a life and death situation.</p><p>That one hadn’t changed one bit.</p><p>He barely managed to hide a yawn when he stepped inside the door, squinting his eyes to the sight before him. The fireplace is lit. The windows are partly open, allowing the evening chill inside and the Christmas music from Mrs. Hudson’s. There’s a faint smell of something burning and ...</p><p>There are Christmas wrappers everywhere. Scratch that. There are fancy Christmas wrappers wherever he looked. On the floor, the coffee table, the kitchen table, the sink, the chairs—wait—only his chair, and on the way to their bedroom. But the thing that alarmed John the most, which also, isn’t new, is the wrappers are half burnt. Or was it his eyes getting blurred?</p><p>John heaved a sigh before he conjures the source of disaster.</p><p>Christ, he’s so tired.</p><p>"Sherlock!”</p><p>He was about to take a step when the world suddenly took a turn and everything went black.</p><p>
  <b>•• SHERLOCK ••</b>
</p><p>Sherlock hated the fact that he left the flat in that state. One that John often called ’disastrous’. He left for a reason that he omitted in his mind. He forgot to pick up his presents for John. Presents that he hid at Mycroft’s club. When earlier that morning all he could think of are ways of wrapping them. Only to be distracted when one Christmas wrapper he bought online among a dozen, caught fire when he was making tea.</p><p>Alright. After that, he admittedly got distracted. There was this unique wrapper that got burned but not thoroughly. The colors were so beautiful and he got really delighted with it. He took notes and jotted them down on his handy diary. He stared at the flame as it lapped around the piece of paper before he remembered that the fireplace was open. Good thing, he opened the windows beforehand. So the fumes hadn’t stuck around the flat.</p><p>But the mess got out of hand already. Half of the wrappers got burned from his impromptu experiment. But at least, he already reserved the wrapper he’ll be using for his gifts.</p><p>The cab went to a stop in front of flat 221 when his phone began to ring. He paid the cabbie before bringing the phone to his ear without much of a glance.</p><p>”Holmes,”</p><p>”Sherlock! Oh, dear! Where the hell are you?!”</p><p>With a raised eyebrow he put the phone away to look at the screen. It was Mrs. Hudson. But that wouldn’t explain the sudden phone call and the panic in her voice.</p><p>”Mrs. Hudson, what’s going on?”</p><p>”Sherlock, it’s John. I found him unconscious on the floor!”</p><p>John...</p><p>”I’m here. I’m gonna call an ambulance—”</p><p>”Oh, you don’t have to, dear. I manage to pick him up and half carry him to your bed. Mr. Halston from the neighboring flat came by and saw me in distress and helped me with John. Good man. Although it’s a bit of trouble judging with my age and my hip. Oh, my hip. Did you know I almost broke it when I was a teen—”</p><p>Sherlock sighed. ” Mrs. Hudson?”</p><p>”Oh. Of course. John’s resting. His temperature is still a bit warm but I gave him fever medicine already. He was awake earlier and—”</p><p>”I’m here. I’m going to come up. Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. I wouldn’t know if...”</p><p>”Oh, you.” There was an unmistakably sound of Mrs. Hudson silently crying on the other end of the line. But before Sherlock could ask if the old woman was alright, his landlady had spoken again.</p><p>”Don’t worry too much. And you’re welcome. I’ll just meet you downstairs then. Toodles.”</p><p>Still, Sherlock couldn’t stop worrying. He wondered if the fumes caused it. Now, he feels guilty for what he did. When will he stop bringing trouble to John? Will John eventually leave him? Sherlock tucked his thoughts away to the farthest room in his mind palace. John needs him right now. And beside John, that’s where he’ll be.</p><p>
  <b>•• JOHN ••</b>
</p><p>John felt so warm. But unlike the unpleasant feeling, he had earlier when he arrived from work, this one’s welcoming. It feels like home. He opened his eyes marveling at the wild curls tucked under his chin, to the sleeping form of his consulting detective, who’s lying half-sprawled over him. The sight made him smile.</p><p>Sherlock must’ve felt his heartbeat change because those curls moved and not long after, worried stormy grey eyes watched him intently. The man balanced himself over him, slotting himself in between his legs. For a moment they just stared in each other’s eyes, as no words are needed. Then his boyfriend leaned down, for their lips to touch.</p><p>”Hi,” Sherlock murmured against his lips.</p><p>”Hi, yourself.” John replied softly, as he welcome Sherlock’s kiss.</p><p>Breathless they split apart, but not before John felt Sherlock’s hard length against his still jean-clad thighs.</p><p>”Want me to do something with that?” He asked with a grin. ”What?” He asked again when Sherlock frowned.</p><p>Sherlock looked at him like he’d grown three heads.</p><p>”You’re down with fatigue, John. If Mrs. Hudson hadn’t heard you come home, and not long after, found you passed out on the floor, who knows what would’ve happened...?”</p><p><em>To you...</em> He knew Sherlock left that part off.</p><p>Oh. Right. He arrived exhausted from work earlier and... there were wrappers...</p><p>”Wait. What happened with those gift wraps?”</p><p>John watched as Sherlock’s eyes widen. But he could no longer hide his grin when Sherlock’s mouth opened, then closed again.</p><p>”Bad day for the experiment?” John chided, and eventually lost it when Sherlock pouted at him. God, he’s so cute.</p><p>”I’m sorry, John. I swear nothing else got burned.”</p><p>John’s grin vanished. Sherlock could’ve been hurt. Although he knew Sherlock could handle himself, he still couldn’t help but worry.</p><p>”Did you get hurt?</p><p>”No.”</p><p>”Let me see those fingers—”</p><p>”I didn’t—John...”</p><p>”—let me see your hand, Sherlock.”</p><p>
  <b>•• SHERLOCK ••</b>
</p><p>Sherlock grimaced when John expected his fingers. There were minor burns in it but he knew it will only require some ointment. Still, he can’t help but preen a little as John inspected both of his hands with care. Not that he’ll complain. As John was busy, he could observe as well. But when his observations turned into doubts inside his head, he pulled his hands away. And of course, John noticed it.</p><p>”Hey, something wrong?” John asked him, worry etched on his boyfriend’s face. Sherlock hated himself for being the one who put it.</p><p>”What if you’ll get tired of me, John?”</p><p>John frowned at him. But he continued.</p><p>”What if you’ll find someone who’s better than me? Who’s not messy... Who doesn’t burn gift wrappers because they look amazing when engulfed in flames. Who doesn’t forget presents. Who doesn’t makes you worry.”</p><p>Sherlock’s mood dropped. John isn’t talking. That just meant John doesn’t want him any—</p><p>”If you’re talking about a boring human being like me, then I don’t want them.</p><p>”If you’re talking about someone who isn’t you, then I don’t definitely want them. That’s all you need to know.”</p><p>Sherlock gaped at John.</p><p>”Are you questioning my love for you, William Sherlock Scott Holmes? What should I do for you not to worry about this?</p><p>”Should I prove something to you?”</p><p>Sherlock shook his head.</p><p>”No, John... Nothing to prove.”<br/>
Sherlock whispered, then he buried his face on the crook of John’s neck.</p><p>”I love you. Whatever you do, I’ll still love you. Just don’t hurt yourself, Sherlock.”</p><p>”I... I do.. love you too.” Sherlock replied shyly, before continuing. ”But that’s impossible, John. I almost burned my hands when we practiced baking Christmas cookies the other day.”</p><p>
  <b>•• JOHN ••<b></b></b>
</p><p>Ah. Yes. That one was his fault. He forgot to warn Sherlock to use potholders.</p><p>”That one’s mine, Sherlock. I forgot to point out the cookies are fresh from the oven.</p><p>”All I’m saying is... make me worry less, okay? I don’t want anything happening to you while I’m not here.”</p><p>Sherlock gave him ’the look’.</p><p>”You, John Watson—You should stop taking extra shifts as well. Look at what happened to you.” Sherlock exclaimed.</p><p>John sighed. Yeah, he definitely need a break. And now his throat’s beginning to feel itchy and dry. Sherlock must’ve noticed it because the man stood up, leaving the room. John decided to change from his work clothes to a comfy jumper and pyjamas. When Sherlock returned with his medicine and a glass of water, he’s already feeling hungry.</p><p>”Thanks, love.” John said as he took his medicine from Sherlock.</p><p>”Should I reheat the soup Mrs. Hudson made?”</p><p>”Oh, that would be bloody amazing. Thanks again, love. Want me to join you there?”</p><p>Sherlock shook his head, before dropping a kiss to his forehead. The man blushed and John find it really adorable.</p><p>”You should rest. Let me take care of it. I promise to be very careful.” Sherlock smiled at him reassuringly before walking to the door, and closing it as he leave.</p><p>When the door closed, John went back to bed. Those wrappers just meant that Sherlock already bought gifts for him. He should think of something soon to give his man. And that idea of a gift has been brewing in his mind. John just has to choose the perfect one and the right time to give it.</p><p>
  <b>•• SHERLOCK ••</b>
</p><p>Sherlock was relieved that John’s fever hadn’t been a worry for days. The medicine and rest helped a lot. John followed his advice of taking the week off despite protests. Sherlock even endured calling Mycroft to find a temporary replacement for John in the clinic. Now, they lay softly in bed, quite a domestic scene. But Sherlock wouldn’t trade it for anything. He’s in that state of bliss just wrapping himself around John’s waist, as John read him their previous cases, as he always did.</p><p>Downstairs, by the kitchen, on the second shelf to the right, Sherlock hid John’s gifts. An original Irish knitted jumper, he asked an old family friend to knit, a jumper knitted by his mother and a jumper his father bought a month before on his visit to Scotland. Sherlock only wished John would forgiven him, when he tells his man that he burned another jumper a week ago.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. 12/10: Prompt #10: Surprise | it came upon a midnight clear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>PROMPT #10: SURPRISE </b><br/>Addtl. Tags: Established relationship - Boyfriend and a surprise development!</p><p>  <i>He whispered the deepest words of love he’d only learned by reading romance books under the shade of a tree a long time ago. Words that don’t mean a thing to a fourteen-year-old. Only beautiful words. But to a grown man it held every meaning that Sherlock wanted John to hear. </i></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>More what-not coming your way. I swear. Fluff isn’t my division. But you don’t really want to know the one I could say I’m more comfortable in writing. So, Please bear with me. Thank you. 🤧</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s almost midnight, and Sherlock just got home at 221B. But he knows that John’s still awake, waiting for him. So, Sherlock did not really think of lowering his voice when he banged open the door.</p><p>"John, would you like to have—”</p><p>But his words die in his mouth as his jaw drops in awe of the scene in front of him.</p><p>The word surprise doesn’t cover at all to describe what he’s seeing.</p><p>Fairy lights decorated the whole flat in a non-Sherlock way; meaning, it’s organized. The chairs were back to the side, like the coffee table. But in the center of the flat, draped in a cream-colored fabric with Christmassy designs in it was their dining table.</p><p>A three-course meal laid neatly and looking delicious, with wine on the side. Sherlock knew John isn’t a wine drinker, so there must’ve been a beer stashed somewhere. And speaking of John, there he is. Sherlock found his beau on the couch deep in sleep on his side.</p><p>His best boyfriend just made him dinner that looks like an English dinner party. Sherlock couldn’t help but smile. </p><p>He walked towards John, carefully wrapping himself around his beau. He reached out a hand to hold John’s and there he found several plasters over his fingers. Guilt filled Sherlock, John might’ve thought he’d be home soon, so he got himself hurt while hurrying to cook. He heaved a sigh, and John stirred. Sherlock snuggled closer to those strong arms, marveling at John’s smell and feel of a home. Said arms then, tightened around him. And when he titled his head, their eyes met. It brought Sherlock’s heart to an almost stop. Like being shot with electricity all over his body. Then John smiled at him, eyes full of love and tenderness and right there and then Sherlock knew John is the one. His eyes prickled because he wanted to do everything right. And yet, John was the one who’s always done everything perfectly. </p><p>He was about to open his mouth when John, of course, beats him to it with another surprise.</p><p>”Marry me?” John whispered.</p><p>And the tears Sherlock had been holding poured out. He doesn’t care if anyone could see him. Sherlock Holmes, crying over a question he never thought he’d ever heard all of his adult life. He never thought he’s deserved to be asked. But then John came into his life. And everything he believed about falling in love, became a doubt, as John made him believed in it. So, Sherlock leaned in to whisper his answer against the lips of his... fiancé.</p><p>
  <i>Yes ...</i>
</p><p>And then John kissed him, not minding the open doors and the windows. He kissed back John with tears of indescribable and undeserved joy in his heart. He whispered the deepest words of love he’d only learned by reading romance books under the shade of a tree a long time ago. Words that don’t mean a thing to a fourteen-year-old. Only beautiful words. But to a grown man it held every meaning that Sherlock wanted John to hear. But when John just replied with those three most used words, Sherlock felt small. John’s declaration consumed him in every possible way. And when they broke apart, he just wanted to take John away from the world and make him his.</p><p>But that can wait. And when the right time comes, he’ll make sure it will be perfect. </p><p>”Dinner?” John whispered.</p><p>Sherlock smiled. ”Starving.” </p><p>In the comfort of their flat and closed doors, two men ate dinner, both filled with content and overflowing with love from one another. As the world fell asleep around them, they lay awake talking about things the future holds. Both making a vow to take each step together, one surprise at a time.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Happy Happy Birthday, Kat. This one’s for you. 🙏🏼</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. 12/11: Prompt #11: Cold Feet | with you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>PROMPT #11: COLD FEET</b><br/>Addtl. Tags: Established relationship - fiancés!</p><p>
  <b>SHORT SUMMARY:</b>
</p><p>Sherlock experiences cold feet about telling their engagement to his parents, so John reassures him that everything will be fine. &lt;3</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is a continuation of yesterday’s with today’s prompt. Pardon its messy structure. A toast to informal/unorthodox writers. 🙏🏼</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>”Sherlock get up.”</p><p>”No can do. Go away, John.”</p><p>”Christ, don’t be a brat. We’ll be late for lunch. Your parents won’t appreciate it if you bail again this time.”</p><p>Sherlock’s head perks up from being buried on the pillow. He’s so cold. Why can’t his fiancé understand that? </p><p>”I said it’s too cold. I’m having cold feet, John. Is it too much to ask to leave me alone? Just text them, or let Mycroft handle them.” Sherlock declares, then glares at John before he nuzzles the pillow again.</p><p>John’s eyebrows raise at him.<br/>
”Medically speaking or literally?”</p><p>A muffled <i>both?</i> was Sherlock’s answer.</p><p>He hears John sigh. Sherlock knows he’s acting really awful and childish. Yes, it’s chilly, but no, not enough to bail on his parents. He just worries that his parents will overwhelm him or John once they tell the news of their engagement. Then John would realize that he couldn’t really handle being Sherlock’s husband at all. And no way, he's not so ready for that. He just wants to spend the day with John, in their bed, free from planning next on how to tell their friends ’the great news’.</p><p>Sherlock heard the familiar sound of ruffling clothes before the mattress creaks. All of a sudden, something cold touches his inner thigh that had him screaming like a teenager and shouting ’Murder!’ Turns out John’s feet are cold as well. </p><p>He hid under the blanket once again while John laughs merrily by his side. He sneaks a peek from the blanket and... yeah... There he is. His beau laughing like there’s no tomorrow. Blue eyes lit with joy. </p><p>Sherlock narrows his eyes at the man.<br/>
John stares at him again before another round of laughter ensues. </p><p>After a minute, John almost regains his composure when he glances at Sherlock again and snorts a laugh.</p><p>”Sorry!”John says after clearing his throat.</p><p>”Sure, go ahead. Just make it quick.” Sherlock replies in a bland voice.</p><p>”I swear that’s the last of it!” </p><p>Sherlock glares at John. ”What if I tuck my freezing feet on yours huh?”</p><p>John then wipes his teary eyes then takes Sherlock’s hands. </p><p>”I’m sorry, love. Really. Not gonna do it again. But seriously... Listen to me.”</p><p>Sherlock stares into John’s eyes.</p><p>”Your parents love you. If they feel excited and happy for you because finally, you’ll have someone to care for you, that’s because they love you and they are thrilled for you. Also, don’t be scared for me. I’m not going anywhere. Not without you. And I think I can handle another pair of Holmes, don’t you think?”</p><p>”Are you saying I’m difficult?”</p><p>John shrugs. ”You had some bad days.”</p><p>Sherlock pouts and John leans in for a quick peck on his lips. </p><p>”So, shall we?”</p><p>Sherlock sighs, then stares at John. No, he really can’t say no to those kind blue eyes, that sensual mouth, and a cute nose. </p><p>”Only if you promise me marathon sex later.”</p><p>John raises an eyebrow at him.<br/>
”Really, now?”</p><p>Sherlock nods.<br/>
”It’s for science, John.”</p><p>John amusingly looks at him.<br/>
”Alright. Deal.”</p><p>Sherlock grins.</p><p>”Alright. Wipe that bloody grin off your face. Deal. Now, come on. Get up. No more cold feet. Literally or whatever.”</p><p>Sherlock grumbles as he got up. Just then an idea came into his mind.</p><p>”John! Shower sex first! Warm me up.”</p><p>”Am I that insatiable?”<br/>
John laughs.</p><p>”A bit.” Sherlock shrugs. ”Also, you love me.” He proudly declares.</p><p>John gives him a fond look, then winks.<br/>
”That I do. For all the reasons, I do.” </p><p>Sherlock bit his lower lip, trying and failing not to blush, while John reaches for his hand.</p><p>Little did John know, as he drags Sherlock in the shower, his mischievous beau already sent a message to his parents that they will just visit them the next day. He got an emoji smirk, an eggplant and two emoji men which still puzzles him. He has to ask John about that. </p><p>But for now, Sherlock smirks to himself. He plans, he succeeds.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Going through a difficult week + beginning to feel burned out— but we did received a bit of a good news IRL. I’m just not going to celebrate because whenever I do, a bad thing happens. :(</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. 12/12: Prompt #12: Virus | woe is me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>PROMPT #12: VIRUS</b><br/>Addtl. Tags: Set in the beginning! When they aren’t a couple yet.</p><p>Turns out Sherlock is a sickly person in this universe. Hmm...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>”JOHN!”<br/>
The door bangs open startling John. Sherlock enters chest heaving, dripping wet, and shaking. </p><p>”Bloody hell, Sherlock—are you trying to give me a—what the hell happened to you? No. Don’t answer that—and DON’T you bloody move—I’ll get you a towel.” Not waiting for Sherlock’s answer he runs to the man’s room.</p><p>When he got back to the living room, Sherlock’s sneezing again.</p><p>”Oi, cover your nose. You’ll spread the virus!” </p><p>”I know, John. I’m not stupid.” Sherlock grumbles.</p><p>John sighs, feeling guilty. ”I know, Sherlock. Just... Habit. Doctor remember?” He answers as he passes the towel and robe. </p><p>The man hums while trying to get out of his wet garments.</p><p>”Let me help you. Your clothes are heavy when wet, and it looks like you’re tired... Please?” John offers with a shy smile. </p><p>Why? He didn’t know. He just wants to take care of Sherlock all of a sudden.</p><p>Sherlock raises an eyebrow but he obliges with a small smile and a murmur of ’Thank you, John.’</p><p>So, John strips the man off his Belstaff, a posh two-button suit jacket, a ridiculously slim-fit long-sleeve but he draws the line with those mouthwatering tight trousers. </p><p>By the time, Sherlock’s standing there in his... Fuck... black silk boxers with an obvious hard-on, John refuses to think it’s because of him—still, he couldn’t help but stare. Because the pink flushed head begs to be released. Fuck.</p><p>John didn’t even realize he’s staring at Sherlock’s prominent bulge if not for the man clearing his throat.</p><p>Double fuck.</p><p>”John....?” Sherlock asks softly.</p><p>”Sorry. I didn’t mean it. That was inappropriate.” God, he can die of embarrassment now.</p><p>John ducks his gaze while rubbing the back of his neck when his gaze falls to the robe in his hand.</p><p>Christ, the robe!</p><p>He thrusts it towards Sherlock without looking. </p><p>There’s a ruffle of garments afterward and then Sherlock nudges him softly.</p><p>”Thank you, John. I apprecia—achooo!”</p><p>John sighs, now giving Sherlock a thorough look. His eyes are watery, his nose beginning to redden. Sherlock also keeps on swallowing something. He’s definitely will go down with something.</p><p>”Oh, you poor little thing. Come on, I’ll take you to bed.” John says, absentmindedly taking hold of Sherlock’s hand. ”You will rest. Stop thinking of that case you’re working on. I’ll make your soup and then I’ll give you something for that cold—”</p><p>John knows he is rambling. But how can’t he? When the feeling of Sherlock’s hand grasping his feels so right. How can he explain that? He’ll think about it some other day, for now, he’ll take care of Sherlock.</p><p>If he catches the virus itself, well, he’ll assume Sherlock will take care of him as well.</p><p>A few hours later ...</p><p>When Mycroft enters the flat to talk to Sherlock in person about his carelessness while chasing the criminal that almost had him drowning in the Thames, he isn’t expecting the sight before him. </p><p>Doctor Watson is lying on the couch while Sherlock sleeps soundly against his chest. He walks closer, minding the creaking parts of the floor. He stops at the other end of the couch and observes his brother. Of course. His brother had been sleeping in his bedroom but when he woke up, he came looking for Doctor Watson. He finds the man passed out on the couch and decides to stay there.</p><p>Mycroft nods to himself as he feels Sherlock’s forehead. His temperature has gone down, and his complexion isn’t flushed anymore. When the doctor sent him a text earlier, he admit he got worried. That's why he left his precious hoard of documents, aiming for a visit.</p><p>”Go away, Mikey...” Sherlock grumbles in his sleep while nuzzling back at the crook of the doctor’s neck. He hears John hum, arms wrapping loosely around his little brother's back.</p><p>Mycroft involuntarily smiles. He remembers when he’s the one taking care of Sherlock when they were little. Tending to him when he gets ill like this. It seems as though his job is done. He does have to warn Mrs. Hudson, in case she’ll end up with two patients down with the cold virus.</p><p>Once again he glances at the two men sleeping soundly. They are the total opposite of one another, and yet they fit perfectly like a puzzle. He wonders if he’ll have that as well. </p><p>”Take care of my little brother, John.”<br/>
He murmurs then he turns around, leaving the two in peace. </p><p>He’s almost at the door when he hears John’s sleepy voice.</p><p>”Always...”</p><p>Mycroft nods to no one before he exits the way he had entered. </p><p>Upon informing Mrs. Hudson about the occupants of 221B, Mycroft is greeted outside by the onslaught of Christmas carols from passing teenagers. He sighs. Mummy’s Christmas parties and Christmas dinners. Good grief, he really hates Christmas. He might try pretending to have caught the virus. He grins to himself. Brilliant.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Days 13-15: Prompts 13-15: London snow/Family/Mistletoe | a toast to now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>PROMPTS 13-15: LONDON SNOW • FAMILY • MISTLETOE</b><br/>Addtl. Tags: Indie, Both John and Sherlock are retired, please check the tags above in the corresponding prompt &lt;3<br/><b>Short Summary:</b></p><p>All John Watson wanted is to spend another Christmas Eve alone, spending his favorite past-time in his flat. But then his daughter Rosie asked for help in Christmas shopping. Of course, nothing could go wrong—except for an unpredictable London snow, which he’s so used to by the way. What John Watson isn’t prepared of—is for Fate to throw a person from his past along the way. </p><p>
  <b>Not Beta Read.</b>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Loosely based on Dan Fogelberg's song, <a href="https://youtu.be/kmZ2VHSkVYY">’Same Old Lang Syne’</a>. From his seventh album, The Innocent Age, released in 1981. The title is also part of the lyrics of the chorus from the song.</p><p>We drank a toast to innocence<br/>We drank a toast to now</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The nearest local grocery store Robinson's buzz with last-minute Christmas eve shoppers when I arrived. Consumers drag their feet here and there from counter to counter, going through their long lists. If my daughter Rosie was here, she'll probably bitch about them. People ... She would say. Good thing she and his husband, George are preoccupied with their little Diana and preparing the Christmas dinner. And that these items will be needed tomorrow. </p><p>Letting out a sigh, I stomp my feet lightly on the welcome rug to get rid of the snow under my boots. The second week of December sees a mix of rain and heavy snow, according to the weather channel. Either way, if not for Rosie needing help with shopping, I wouldn't be here wearing layers of clothes. I'm as boring as a hermit these days, especially when this month comes. Having retired from practice a few years ago, there's not much that interests me except reading. </p><p>Back up twenty plus years ago, a criminal chase would be marvellous. </p><p>I cringed at the voice in my head. It's got a point though. I walk unhurriedly, just looking over sections of displays while glancing at the crumpled list in my hand. There's turkey, cranberry sauce, potatoes... and this one I'm having a hard time reading. I always remind Rosie to list everything and not leave a space but she still managed to forget something. Then George would be the one to add that one unreadable entry. Hence, the one at the end.</p><p>I was about to head to the frozen foods section, still looking on my list, when I passed by a tall figure of a man wearing a posh Belstaff and got a whiff of an achingly familiar scent. </p><p>My feet stopped of their own accord, barely missing the other shoppers in front of me. Like before, my whole attention gravitated toward him. What is he doing here? The last time I heard of him, he was married to some posh guy who runs a bank. The fact that I wasn’t invited to his wedding was supposed to make me hate him. But what I felt instead, were regret, sadness, and what-ifs. The way we parted two years after the death of Rosie’s mother, isn’t how I wanted our last time together to be. But there were things before that I felt while with him that made me question who I am. I was a coward not to deal with it. A coward to use Rosie as the reason to start for something fresh and new life, away from the people I got used to having in my life. All because of unrequited feelings that I couldn’t even talk about. </p><p>But if I could turn back the time, I’d do anything to make it right. But it’s all too late now. </p><p>I stared at him like he was a ghost in my past. </p><p>He was still taller than me. That, I had already accepted ever since. He had the same mop of curls, only now they are peppered with streaks of grey.</p><p>But, oh Lord, he’s still gorgeous. Still had that glint in his eyes, that reflects curiosity and mischief.</p><p>I braved myself and approach him slowly. He was holding a pack of biscuits examining it against the light like the man of science he is. He made this facial expression that used to tell me he didn’t like something as he chucked the pack back to the rack. Like he did with the packs of frozen peas when I used to take him with me shopping. </p><p>The memory flashed before me so vivid, I could touch it. That was always a source of entertainment. How Sherlock mentally dissect everything that he’s curious about. It brought back a lot of funny memories from stakeouts as well. That before I could stop myself, it made me snort out loud. And that’s when he turned in my direction, list still at hand. </p><p>When our eyes met, it’s like everything stood still. The time, the shoppers, the grocer's noise went silent, the air felt thick. Once again I felt that familiar pull. The one I had that night when we came back from dinner at Angelo’s after I saved his life from a desperate cabbie driver. The first time I felt alive again after the army. The beginning of something I refused to recognize. And so here we are.</p><p>He didn’t recognize me first, but I knew it the moment he did. </p><p>His eyes widen to a shock and then all of a sudden, my arms are full of a laughing former detective. Telling me how he missed me, asking me how I’ve been. He whispers my name over and over again as if he couldn’t believe I am here. But all I could think of was... God, he smelled the same as well. It made my chest ache. So I just tightened my arms around his waist, holding him close. He’s warm and familiar and … He’s my Sherlock Holmes. My former partner, colleague, best friend. My almost.</p><p>It’s been twenty years since we went our separate ways, and I’m still in love with him.</p><p>•••</p><p>”So, how have you been?”</p><p>I glanced at Sherlock as we stood in line along with the other shoppers by the cashier. Those peppered grey curls distract me. I’m having that urge to pull him close and kiss him while I bury my fingers in them.</p><p>”John?”</p><p>Christ. I didn’t realize I was staring at him. And he’s looking at me with that shy smile.</p><p>”Sorry, what?” I asked dumbfoundedly, but he just shook his head.</p><p>”I was asking how you were,”</p><p>”Oh. Good. Very good. Yeah. You?” I asked back before I turn my gaze down to the bags I’m totaling so I can bag them.</p><p>”Oh. I... It’s been a difficult year.” He said a bit distracted. Then went on to scan his purchases. It was then that I noticed the eyebags under his eyes.</p><p>”Would you like to drink? We can talk about it,” I offered. Why? I don’t know. I just want to be with him. To know more about him. Call me a masochist. </p><p>I hesitated. Bloody hell, me. So I hedged.<br/>
”But it’s alright if you don’t—”</p><p>”I liked you—” </p><p>Sherlock said all of a sudden. We both stopped on what we’re doing then slowly glanced at each other. My heart beating fast against my chest.</p><p>”I’d like to have a drink with you.” He rectified. But it’s as if my heart, my heart knows what he meant.</p><p>And for the first time after my life with him, I find myself smiling a genuine one.</p><p>••••</p><p>Coffee at hand, we walk a bit until we reached the little parking lot where Sherlock’s car is. I had a feeling that he wanted to ask if I ever learned driving, judging by the glances he’s throwing at me, so I answered his unvoiced question.</p><p>”Nope. I didn’t pursue learning how to drive.”</p><p>He hummed like he was thinking about my answer. I would’ve told him that my panic attacks got worse that I had to bring a then young Rosie to Harry’s until I can be sure that it’s safe. But he remained silent. Finally, we found his car which surprised me because it isn’t a rental anymore. It’s a black hammer Jeep and I think it suited him. Posh and exquisite.</p><p>We went inside just as the evening turned darker and the snow fell quickly than before.</p><p>We made ourselves comfortable and talk about the earlier days of our lives. But we stopped when I had to pause about Mary. Not because I felt guilty about his death, nor I want to make Sherlock feel that way. But because I want to tell him the words I should’ve told him before. That the John Watson before was someone I regret. But I didn’t. Add that to my pile of regrets. </p><p>I was again surprised that he pulled out a six-pack of canned drinks, an hour in our conversation. He gave me three canned beers while he pulled a soda from the mix.</p><p>I told him about Rosie and George and little Diana. Rosie growing up, her schooling, the time he met George in France. I noticed that as I go on he had this sadness in his eyes. He looked down and apologized that he wasn’t there when Rosie’s growing up. And I felt like an utter dick for robbing him off of those memories.</p><p>Then, just to divert everything from talking about me, I asked about him. The last days of him being a detective. His funny cases, well funny because it includes Anderson and the rest of the NSY. Then he dropped the bomb that Greg (he finally got the name of our friend right) married Mycroft. We laughed and laughed when he told me about how Greg got Mycroft speechless with his proposal in the middle of a crime scene. </p><p>He told me of his house in Sussex Downs. An old bed and breakfast he bought and turned into a house when it closed two years ago. He told me about his bees and how it helped him not miss going into cases and the thrill of it. I could almost see a future with Sherlock tending to his bees while I read a book by the chair or sometimes helping him. I shook my head at the illusion. Stop hoping for something you can never have. </p><p>He told me about the death of his parents about six years ago. I went silent for a minute to give the Holmes' parents a prayer. Then I apologised for not being there. Sherlock said that he understood. But he admitted that losing them in consecutive years were hard, and with Mrs. Hudson's death two years after. Of Molly, who migrated to Italy for her beau. </p><p>And then Sherlock told me of his brief marriage. And by brief, that it's only for two years. When he came out as gay. That was a bit of comfort. But I told him I didn’t want him to suffer through that. So, I told him it was fine. Just like I did that time in Angelo’s. The silence that followed was welcoming. </p><p>I watched as my former best friend swirled the soda can slowly in his hand like he was holding a glass of champagne. Then what he called a sob story, continued.</p><p>He told me how he met Harold, a banking executive who found him ’fascinating’. Who knew about his previous cases by reading ’my’ blog. I should’ve been offended, but that blog has been a source of strength for me, whenever being alone is becoming too much. He told me about Harold who has dirty blonde hair and a bit taller than him. Who’s a graduate of Psychology. Who helped him when he had a relapse. And Sherlock must’ve seen me wanting to ask about it, about the whys and when. However, he shook his head at me and turned away to look at the snow outside. If Sherlock looked sad about Rosie earlier, he was even sadder now. He told me it was a year ago today when the divorce was finalized. He moved to Sussex inn after everything that happened. He forgot that it became his sanctuary, whenever he and his ex-husband fought. But he didn’t have to, I could see it in his eyes.</p><p>And I hated myself even more because I felt glad that he’s single. And felt guilty as if it was because my conflicted feelings had led us to this. </p><p>With our booze gone, the silence became louder. It was then that I realize, I couldn’t just throw myself again in Sherlock’s life. He’s on his own and so am I. </p><p>Sherlock offered to drive me to Rosie’s house where I told him I’ll spend Christmas. I conceded so I wouldn’t have to take a cab. He also said he noticed I was limping again. Of course, he would. But I told him that I slipped in the bathroom the other day while fixing the showerhead. Oddly enough he didn’t comment but I did notice him blush and went into deep thought as we exit the parking lot. It was an endearing look on him. </p><p>We were a few blocks away from Rosie’s house when the falling snow got worse.</p><p>”Are we having a blizzard?” Sherlock asked me while eyeing the blurry front shield. </p><p>”News says we will, sometime today.” I answered eyeing my phone for Rosie’s messages. So far, none.</p><p>Then suddenly the car stopped in the middle of an empty road, and Sherlock cursed.</p><p>”Sherlock?” I looked at him and almost laughed. He looked like an overgrown child murdering his lower lip by biting it.</p><p>”I think I ran out of gas.”</p><p>Unconsciously, my hand moved on its own, and my thumb started caressing the said lip. I smiled when he let go of it.</p><p>”Did you know your lip will darken if you keep biting on it?” I murmured to myself more than to him, and now my fingers slide over his jaw. </p><p>”You’ve always hated growing facial hair.” I chuckled as I remember the memory of him telling me he liked his doctors clean-shaven. ”You never liked my beard.”</p><p>”No,” He whispered. ”But I... I lo—like you enough to compensate for it, I think.” </p><p>The tone of his voice made me look into his eyes and I was shocked to see his eyes shimmering in tears. And it made me wonder if he was crying for the words he told me, or for the one he replaced by it. But he can’t be... Can’t he? </p><p>”Sherlock...”</p><p>”Please hear me out?”</p><p>I nodded as a tear fell in his eye. I wiped it with my thumb as he continued.</p><p>”I’m not a religious man, John. But I asked for a miracle still. And He gave me Rosie.”</p><p>I stared at him stupidly, as he went on for the explanation.</p><p>”A month ago, I bumped into her at Harrod’s. She was the one who approached me and told me she knew who I am. She told me she’s my godchild and that she’s heard so much about me from you.”</p><p>I swallowed the lump in my throat. Rosie never told me she saw Sherlock. Maybe there was another reason. But still, I didn’t know what to feel that my daughter didn’t tell me. As if reading my thoughts, Sherlock reached for my hand and held it.</p><p>”Don’t hate her, please. I asked her not to tell you. And I’m the one who told her to ask you to visit the store.”</p><p>What the...</p><p>I stared at Sherlock like I didn’t know him. Like he was a stranger. Did he mean to say that this meeting didn’t happen in an accident? Rage burned inside me and I forced myself to breathe.</p><p>”John...”</p><p>I raised a hand, my hand that is shaking. My hand that I curled into a fist, lowering it slowly. Christ. After all these years... I thought he’d change. But no, he’s still that same manipulative bastard. And to think that he dragged Rosie into this? My daughter would never lie to me... except she did.</p><p>”What do you want with me, Sherlock ”<br/>
I shouldn’t felt that satisfaction when my voice went harsher and sounded cold that made the man beside me cringed. But I felt it. And it dulled the ache of betrayal.</p><p>”John... You promised me you’ll listen. Please, John.” </p><p>I glanced at him and oh how I want to punch that pleading face. That same tear-streaked pleading face that offered a mock apology under the Westminster subway because he claimed he couldn’t switch off a bomb, that turns out has a switch. That same face that said, ”Not dead.”</p><p>But I couldn’t. I couldn’t punch him, for the love of God I couldn’t. So I closed my eyes giving him a terse nod. Then I closed my eyes and forced myself to just listen.</p><p>”I didn’t mean ... to drag Rosie in between us. But when she saw me and still introduced herself, and told me about... how you’ve been dealing with... your life. She was just concerned about her father, John. And although she asked me, I’ve always wanted to see you for my selfish reasons.”</p><p>I bowed my head not able to think about anything else. And Sherlock must’ve sensed that I’m not going to say anything, so he continued.</p><p>”You’ve always blamed yourself for the fallout of our friendship.</p><p>”But the truth is... I am to blame as well. Because I made you believe that you didn’t matter to me. That it’s okay for you to leave while there’s a huge elephant in the room stomping in between us. I never really told you I was gay. That it’s okay for you to move away. But I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go. Because there is a saying that—”</p><p>That was the time when I wasn’t able to restrain myself and I mocked a laugh.</p><p>”A saying? Sherlock Holmes believes in a saying now? Fantastic. Oh wait. You told me you’re talking about a mir—”</p><p>Then Sherlock cut me out.</p><p>”A saying that ’if you love someone, set them free’... And if they come back they’re yours and if not...”</p><p>The following words Sherlock said became muted as I stared at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. My heart began that rapid beating again, and I tried to replay the conversation in my head but fail. Because I think I’ve gone into shock. Sherlock Holmes is...</p><p>”John?”</p><p>What? Oh. Sherlock’s saying my name. He’s holding my face. And then Sherlock did the last thing I ever expect him to do.</p><p>He kissed me. His full lips pressed against mine and all I could think of is the need to breathe. So I opened my mouth and let him in. How many minutes passed with our lips locked to one another, I lost count of it. But I cherished it. Treasured it. Suddenly, Christmas has redeemed itself to me. </p><p>But as much as I want to end up kissing him all night, I touched the side of his face, and we split apart.</p><p>I rested my forehead against his, closed my eyes, and just breathe. No more dull ache. No more invisible pain. Just peace.</p><p>Sherlock Holmes is in love with me, and I think a miracle happened to me as well.</p><p>”You’re smiling,” He whispered against my lips. I want to say, ’I am. And it felt damn good, thanks to you.’ But it also felt like I don’t have the strength to talk. So, I just smiled. </p><p>Eventually, I gathered Sherlock in my arms. He lowered our car seats and we lay down snuggled to one another while we watch the snow outside.</p><p>”I want to see you again, John.”<br/>
He murmured against my jumper and I held him tight. All this time... All these years we wasted.</p><p>”It wasn’t wasted.”</p><p>I looked down at him with a frown.<br/>
When he gave me that beautiful and understanding smile that reflects in his eyes, I know once again I am a goner.</p><p>”It made us stronger and realize our mistakes. So, when we meet again, we’ll be ready for that second chance.”</p><p>I was speechless. The fact that Sherlock talked about second chances made me think he knew...</p><p>”Wait. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”</p><p>Sherlock looked at me with that ’You’ve-Got-to-Be-Kidding-Me-You-Thought-I-Wouldn’t-Know look. I think I deserve that. He’s a perceptive and observant human being after all.</p><p>”What? That you’re in love with me?”</p><p>I choked from nothing and covered my face with my palm as heat rushed on my face.</p><p>”Oh my god. John Watson, are you blushing?” Sherlock teased as he held my wrists. Pretending to remove them while laughing as he collapsed on my shoulder.</p><p>”Shut up, Sherlock!” </p><p>I acted like I was mad as he teases me but really I wasn’t. The madman giggled at the crooked of my neck and I held him tighter. God, it felt so good. It felt like coming home. It felt like a perfect time to say the words I was a coward for being afraid to recognize. For hiding that part of me. </p><p>But the words that Sherlock murmured against my skin, I wasn’t expecting to resonate in me so much.</p><p>”Forgive yourself, John. Forgive the past-John Watson, so you, the future, and he can be one.”</p><p>That’s when I realized, he was right. Sherlock had changed so much. But he changed for the better. And I’m proud of him. I want him to be proud of me too. I want Rosie to be proud of his father. </p><p>So I worked my throat to say it and Sherlock must’ve felt it. He got up a bit to balance in his elbow. Then he looked at me with fondness in his eyes and not a trace of conviction or hatred. He looked at me like he was waiting for so long, for me to say those words. Like we hadn’t become strangers again but instead, we finally found one another. </p><p>”I am... I am forgiving you, past-John Watson. I forgive myself. ” And as Sherlock blurred in front of me, I let the voice inside of me be heard. </p><p>”And I... I love you, Sherlock. I am in love with you, Sherlock Holmes. I always have, and I always will. And I’m so sorry...” </p><p>And the damn broke. My voice caught in my throat as I buried myself against Sherlock. I hugged him tightly, my tears falling freely over his shoulders, I cried for every single mistake I made, for every feeling of regret. I let them all go with my tears as Sherlock’s heartbeat against my own lulled me to sleep.</p><p>My consciousness was awakened by a knock on the window. I groaned and rubbed my eyes when I realized, it was morning already. I looked beside me and saw Sherlock still asleep. When the knock came again, it was then that I looked up to find the two gloved little hands pounding the window. </p><p>I heard a muffled ”Granda!” which meant Granddad made me smile. I woke Sherlock up and he grumbled about still wanting to sleep. Even so, I opened the window to the two important girls in my life. </p><p>”Granda!” I grinned as I took the bouncing three-year-old from my daughter.</p><p>”Dad, Merry Christmas! I thought something real bad happened. Your text message just came in. Bloody blizzard.” Knowing my Rosie, she’s trying not to laugh at how we look. Sherlock is still half-sprawled on my lap and half-lying on the seat. </p><p>”Oi, you—” I started as Rosie’s eyes widen at me. Realizing what I’m about to tell her, she began to raise her hands but I wave her off.</p><p>”All’s good..” I said with a reassuring smile. George came behind her, embracing her. She sniffed, wiping her eyes brimming with tears. I took a deep breath while hugging Diana and told my little family, the truth. </p><p>”This might not be a perfect time and place for what I’m about to say, but... I want you both to know that I’m bisexual. And I’ve always been in love with my best friend. Sherlock Holmes—”</p><p>As if hearing his name, the man himself woke up beside me, rubbing his eyes. He yawned with a sound that made Diana laugh and the two outside giggle. He blinked realizing we aren’t alone anymore. </p><p>”Oh. Little Watson, you again.”</p><p>”Oh, god. Here we go again. I’m not Little anymore, Uncle Scott.”</p><p>”Nope. I meant, this little girl. She looks just like you when I used to call you Little Watson.”</p><p>Rosie half-laughed and half-cried. She was smiling but her eyes are filled with tears. </p><p>”I’ll always be your Little Watson, Pops—” I looked at Sherlock who’s now looking at her with the same teary eyes. </p><p>”And Dad.” I looked at my daughter as my tears fell. She looked just like her mother, except for the eyes she got from me. But her understanding and unconditional love, it was engraved in her whole being from the second person who made me and Sherlock feel like we’re a family: Mrs. Hudson. </p><p>Rosie learned a lot from her childhood years when she used to visit and look after her. That even if I haven’t find the words to explain why Sherlock’s with us now, she’s already given us that blessing. A miracle for me, indeed. Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. </p><p>•••••</p><p>Our reunion was cut short by the towing service George contacted later on. And as we sat in the cozy living room of their humble home, I admitted I’ve never spent a Christmas morning with them. It’s always a Christmas dinner. And I promised myself from now on, for that to change. Now that the missing part of my family has come returned. I plan to spend every Christmas and every occasion with them. </p><p>As the day went by, the presents got opened, dishes had been washed. I stood on the porch watching the snow falling from the sky again. A pair of arms wrapped around my waist from behind.</p><p>”Are you alright?” Sherlock murmured by my shoulder.</p><p>I smiled as I answer. ”Mmm. I’ve never been better.”</p><p>It was then that I remember what he said last night about a Rosie being the answer to the miracle he asked.</p><p>”Hey, you told me meeting Rosie by chance is your miracle? Why is that?”</p><p>I felt Sherlock’s arms tighten around me as he whispered his answer in my ear.</p><p>”Because she led me back to you,”</p><p>A beat passed before I turned around to face him. I clicked my tongue, in a mocking sound.</p><p>”Bloody hell, Sherlock Holmes. I thought I love you already. I can’t believe you’re making me fall in love with you even more.”</p><p>My eyes trailed above his head on the topmost part of the door, noticing the freshly picked plant George nailed above it yesterday morning before I look back at the madman giving me a smug look. Never in my life, I ever wanted to remove that look on his face than I used to with a punch before. </p><p>So, I removed it—by curling my fingers on his coat collar, dragging him closer to me, and giving him an under-the-mistletoe toe-curling kiss.</p><p>Turns out the old John Watson’s still got it. I smirked to myself.</p><p>Who’s the one looking smug now?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It’s probably the London snow, that has a smug look if it has a face—after all... </p><p>• Sherlock stayed at Harrod’s an hour longer because of the moderate snow advisory.</p><p>• Rosamund hurried on her way home only for the snow to fall. Not wanting to get caught, she saw Harrod’s, went inside, eventually bumping into Sherlock.</p><p>• As Rosie only told her father that she needed additional food to prepare, she didn’t actually tell John where to go. If not for the moderate rain and snow advisory, John would’ve gone to Tesco, and not to the fictional local grocer’s store.</p><p>So yeah, the Smuggiest (if there’s a word) Look award goes to the London snow. Give Mother Nature, a round of applause. 👏🏼👏🏼😂</p><p>Thank you for reading! x</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Day 16: Prompt #16: Antlers | the pointy conundrum</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>Prompt #16: ANTLERS</b><br/>Addtl. Tags: Established relationship - fiancés</p><p>  <b>Short Summary:</b></p><p>Sherlock does D.I.Y. antlers<br/>for John 💖</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for being here 💓</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mrs. Hudson made him a thing. </p><p>And according to her, it was called a Christmas antler. Basically, it was just a hand-made horn but it seems so important to Mrs. Hudson, so he smiled and thanked her earlier. </p><p>But if the horrible thing has a pair of eyes, it will be staring at him like what he’s doing at it right now. </p><p>”How can someone be delighted just by seeing this worn by ...another?”</p><p>Breathing a sigh as he contemplates, he plucks the thing from Billy the Skull’s head, turning then flipping it here and there. </p><p>Inspecting its ears, he discovers it was made of soft brown cotton. Its furry design and cloth which was light brown this time serve as the wrap-around to the PVC arch. </p><p>His eyes narrow as he stares at the two pointy horns. It is soft. He thought it’d be hard. Silly. Of course, it wouldn’t be hard. It’s like a child’s costume. </p><p>It'll be thrilling to be poked by this thing in the eyes. He thought. </p><p>But for the sake of Christmas, it should be safe for children. Sherlock barely stops his eyes from rolling, when a thought occurs to him. It seems as though Mrs. Hudson has forgotten something. He needs another one—for John.</p><p>So, Sherlock pulls out his phone, searches for Do-It-Yourself Christmas antlers video, and painstakingly makes one for John Watson. Cuts and burns included. Why he's got burns—well, he's Sherlock Holmes. </p><p>••••••</p><p>As evening arrives so as John Watson from the clinic. He couldn't find Sherlock. But he saw the man's bedroom door ajar. So, he made his way towards it to the point of knocking when he's had a glimpse of the inside. </p><p>There, by the foot of the bed, slouched on his side, while mess surrounds him, sleeping soundly, snoring a bit loudly—was the consulting fiancé John was looking for. Sherlock's choice of endearment.</p><p>John grins at Sherlock's sleeping form. He was wearing a Christmas antler, which looks like the one Mrs. Hudson has given to him also when arrive a few minutes ago.</p><p>He went to pick the mess around Sherlock when he spots the thing. Whatever it was.. </p><p>It was a bit charred., like a combination of red and black. It has a patch of dark fur and two pointy thing that resembles a...</p><p>John's eyes widens as stares at the dreadful thing—it was an.. a burnt antler. Then he looks back at the mess and then eventually into Sherlock's hands. John lays the headband on the floor.</p><p>Covered with plasters, he gently pulls Sherlock's hand to his lips, kissing every finger with bruises and those with mild burns. It was then that he heard Sherlock's sharp intake of breath.</p><p>"Have you disinfected these?" He asks gently, as he look at Sherlock, who’s staring at him now, eyes a mirror of affection. Then he goes back showering kisses to the other hand this time.</p><p>"Mmm...” Sherlock replies, while catching his attention. He then retireves the antler by their side.</p><p>And before John could answer, his fiancé flops himself over his lap. Placing the poor creation over his head. Sherlock leans away from him to admire it.</p><p>He felt overwhelm at what Sherlock tried to do for him. So he hums in appreciation as he makes himself comfortable on the floor. His Sherlock just made him an antler, who injured himself in the process and John couldn't even think of any reason he wasn't a lucky man right now.</p><p>"I love it—so much. Thanks, love."</p><p>John had never felt so much love for a person before, he wonders if it's possible to just burst from it.</p><p>His fiancé then wraps his arms around his neck, as their lips seeks the warmth of one another. </p><p>"I love you too..." Sherlock murmurs against his lips. </p><p>Then to hell with the antlers, Sherlock kisses him again.</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Day 17: Prompt #17: Presents | John’s Christmas Present</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>PROMPT #17: PRESENTS</b><br/>Addtl. Tags: Established relationship - fiancés</p><p>    <b>Short Summary:</b></p><p>Sherlock contemplates what to give John as a gift.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Explicit and seductive in a narrative way. ;)<br/>What can I say? The moment Kat said, ”Christmas porn is okay!” My mind seems to go there always. 😅</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sherlock paces around the flat like his arse is on fire. </p><p>It is the morning of ”Mrs. Hudson’s Gift Exchange Party”, which will occur later in the evening and he still hasn’t got a present for John. </p><p>Flopping himself into his chair, he retreats into his Mind Palace and thinks. </p><p>John isn’t a material person, not fond of gifts. He’d rather be the one giving them than receiving.</p><p>Sherlock purses his lips, pondering his options. </p><p>Money—out of the options. It’s a sore subject to John for some reason Sherlock can’t comprehend. </p><p>The clothes weren’t an issue as well. John has several jumpers given by their friends as an engagement present enough to sew a blanket.</p><p>A place to live in? Sherlock leans back further to his Palace!chair. </p><p>Hmm... </p><p>Although his parents had given them a house in Sussex as their engagement gift they haven’t gone talking about moving there.</p><p>Sherlock just can’t think of anything. Massaging his temple, he leaves the Palace. He stands up, making his way to the kitchen when something red catches his attention.</p><p>Stuck in between the mess of snail mail is a six-meter long red ribbon. Sherlock plucks the ribbon, unconsciously unrolling it until it ends up wrap around him. </p><p>It is then that the halls of his Mind Palace lit up and he smiles.</p><p>Sherlock just had the greatest idea for the greatest gift of all. </p><p>•••</p><p>That evening when the party is in full swing, Sherlock can’t be found. But his gifts for everyone has been given. </p><p>John is disappointed and angry that Sherlock had not made it to the party.<br/>
So, when everyone has gone, John retires to his bedroom. He doesn’t plan on sleeping with Sherlock. It will serve as a punishment.</p><p>But when John walks into his bedroom, he’s in for a surprise. There lies Sherlock on his bed, wearing only the excess red ribbon from the gift wrapping. John’s breath caught in his throat. His cock filling up.</p><p>And when Sherlock spreads those long lean legs in front of him, looking fucking sexy with his hard cock wrap in a red bow and leaking with precum. Breathing heavily of desire like him—John has forgotten every single thought he had earlier. After closing the door and locking it, he walks to his bed born ready to unwrap his early Christmas present.</p><p>Sweet Lord, greatest Christmas present indeed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Day 18: Prompt #18: Tree | Oh, Christmas Tree</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <b>PROMPT #18: TREE</b>
</p><p>This just happened. Don’t murder me, please. 😅</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope I didn’t butcher Mycroft much. Well, this is my version of Mycroft Holmes. <br/>Say ’Hi’ to him! 🙏🏼</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Like the famous Dickens Christmas story, once in his life, Mycroft Holmes hated Christmas as well. It was one of those holidays when he had to grow up immediately when back then, he’s barely seventeen. When he had to place a fake smile on his face while talking to hotel executives, or the officers from the army, and even conferences. When he had to make sure Sherlock wouldn’t hide under the table full of desserts, sneaking them out of the dining hall while their parents and the guests were not looking. </p><p>When his parents barely had time with them because of their corporate status as executives of their chain of security firms. They were just too busy they couldn’t attend the parties. It was Mycroft who had to be an adult and attend every single one of them as representative. And the parties were everywhere. </p><p>But Mycroft has never been to a Christmas party with ’friends’. Friend being the root word, he doesn’t have those. All he had were former classmates, instructors, and eventually, bosses. But it was fine.</p><p>When he was younger, he’s always been aloof. Most likely to be seen alone, until he’s a teenager, something he might’ve passed to his younger brother. Both of them were solitary creatures, that until now. Glancing across the room full of people who are smiling and laughing, he searches for his brother. His brother’s been missing in action ever since this exchanging of gifts started. Good thing there were interesting people present. Like that one New Scotland Yard police detective. Shaking his head, he dismisses the thought. What in the world was he thinking?</p><p>Mycroft then decides to look for his brother's other half, John Watson.</p><p>John Watson had been a surprise Mycroft hadn’t been expecting. When the two had met, he didn’t foresee the doctor to last even for a few hours. Given how unique in comparison, his little brother was to others. But when the doctor shot a serial killer to save his brother’s life without question, Mycroft knew he’d misjudge the former soldier. His lips quirk from the thought. Sherlock’s area. He’s not unaware of his little brother’s proclivities. But it’s also a subject he wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. </p><p>Needless to say, John Watson’s the right man for Sherlock Holmes. They truly complement one another. He sighs, the holiday ghosts must’ve really been affecting him.</p><p>Cursing the narrow steps he went to search for his favorite brother-in-law. Only to find a huge Christmas tree blocking his way to the other flat downstairs. </p><p>”I presume it is the Incomparable Mrs. Hudson, who’s behind this monstrosity?”</p><p>A raspy giggle came from behind the tree, confirming his assumption.</p><p>”Oh. Mycroft. Don’t be a sourpuss. It is a Christmas tree. Mind your manners, boy.”</p><p>Scoffing, he would’ve chastised the old lady for calling him ’boy’. But for some reason, he’s feeling a bit ... forgiving at the moment. So, he took a deep breath, offering a very unlikely suggestion that Sherlock would’ve annoyed him to the grave.</p><p>”Very well then, do you need any help moving this...” He gestured at the 7 ft. tall Christmas symbol. ”... wood?”</p><p>The landlady looks at him like he had grown a beard.</p><p>”Don’t be a sourpuss, Mycroft Holmes. It’s a Christmas Tree, young man.” </p><p>Mycroft clears his throat. He’s kind of regretting what he was offering. But backing out isn’t a Holmes’ manner. Oh, and he’s graduate from a ’boy’ to a ’young man’. </p><p>”Of course, Mrs. Hudson. Do you require assistance?”</p><p>Mrs. Hudson blinks at him before nodding profusely. Then she places the tree near the side of the stairs. </p><p>”You can help me decorate this tree. It’s supposed to be Sherlock and John ... But ...”<br/>Mrs. Hudson shrugs then beams at him like he was the best solution one has come up with in their lives.</p><p>But ... Him?</p><p>He blinks, confusion evident all over his face. ”Me?”</p><p>The old woman glances behind her,  Mycroft following the gesture. Seeing no one’s there, he stood straight again. Brushing his suit of invisible lint. </p><p>”Very well then, where shall we start?”</p><p>•••••</p><p>One agonizing hour and another full of mundane stories from the landlady later, Mycroft has had enough.</p><p>He’s so ready to go back to his manor and just ... drink whiskey, champagne, scotch—whatever alcoholic drink he could find. </p><p>He was knackered.</p><p>Running a hand over his face, he observes the landlady. She was turning around here and there, Mycroft couldn’t help but mimic her move. She’s like looking for something.</p><p>”Mrs. Hudson, may I ask what you are looking for?” He inquires, exhaustion bleeds in his voice.</p><p>”Oh. I was looking for this particular thing. It was from John. His gift to Sherlock, I think.” </p><p>”A gift?” He asks, puzzled. </p><p>”Yes. It was a glass candy cane. Funny, the box says ’Icicles’ though. It was long and huge, I say...”</p><p>Mrs. Hudson said casually as she went back to what she’s doing, looking around and inside storage boxes.</p><p>But unlike her, Mycroft’s mind went to a screeching halt. He could feel his face warming and his eyes widen. </p><p>That <i>ICICLES?</i> <br/>Mycroft did knew something about that item. </p><p>”Oh. And I thought it’ll be perfect to put on top of our tree—”</p><p>
  <i>Oh, God. </i>
</p><p>”Pardon?” <br/>He clears his throat for he’s sure he heard a squeak. </p><p>”What if I lost it?” </p><p>Mycroft hides a grimace. <i>Those two...</i></p><p>
  <i>Thank God for small favours.</i>
</p><p>Then, she smiles at him. ”Will you be a dear and place it on top of the tree, Mycroft?”</p><p>He mentally swears in German as he took a deep breath and reaches out his palm.<br/>He plasters another smile on his face. Hopefully, it won’t look like he’s in pain. What on earth were those two up to leaving this item around?</p><p>”Well then, Mrs. Hudson. May I do the honor?” He replies with a tight smile on his face.</p><p>And when Mycroft successfully places the cane on top of the tree, a camera clicks from the top of the stairs.</p><p>A mess of curls and a flurry of emerald green dressing gown shut the door with a bang.</p><p>Come morning, 221b flat was a mess from the activity of two grown men who chased each other the previous night for a single photo that made the local morning paper headline: <i>”The British Government and the Wand, Merry Christmas!”</i></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Day 19: Prompt #19: Church | forever again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>PROMPT #19: CHURCH</b><br/>Addtl. Tags: Rosie Watson, I thought I'm done with the 20-year gap—I was so bloody wrong, Indie Chapter, DRAMA, second chance, Hopeful Ending</p>
<p><b>Short Summary:</b><br/>In Rosie's P.O.V., a reunion of johnlock after 20 years. A chance to forever again.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The St. Woolos Cathedral stood magnificent with colourful fairy lights decorating its surrounding. But it seems as though it's not enough to catch the attention of the young woman in winter clothes with long blonde hair adorned with a beanie. She's standing in front of the church not minding the falling snow. </p>
<p>But instead, amidst the throngs of Christmas eve mass goers, Rosie Watson has her sight towards the lone figure of an older man in a winter coat. He still had this air of a respected man despite the silver strands on his black curls.</p>
<p>Rosie watches his godfather by the side of the church play "O, Come All Ye Faithful", in his violin with such grace and passion. This isn't the first time she saw the man. But since she and her Dad moved down to South Wales, a few years after the death of her mother. </p>
<p>As for the older man she was watching, his Uncle Sherlock, her godfather. Sherlock Holmes. The once famous, now retired consulting detective, and living in Sussex, which also happens to be his Dad's former best friend. The fall out between him and his Dad's friendship was a mystery to her and to many. When they moved out of Baker Street when she was five, there was a finality to it that back then she can't understand. But Uncle Sherlock never forgotten her. Although his father never comments whenever she receives packages of stuffs and sometimes clothing and books from his godfather. His father has this look of longing when he retrieves the packages or mails. </p>
<p>Luckily, as she was growing up, there was one constant person in her life. She has another ally. Her Nana. Nana Martha volunteered to look after her with the help of Aunt Molly when she was a child and then by herself until her death, two years ago. Tears brims in her eyes as she remembers the truth her Nana Martha told her before she has passed away. It includes her mother's past and her wrongdoings. When she was a teenager, his Dad tried to explain the good side of her mother. And that although her mother wasn't able to see her grow into a young woman, she was loved. That she believe, she let her live, so that was something. And as much as she wants to be angry at her mother, she can't. </p>
<p>But the most heartbreaking truth of it all was Sherlock's sacrifices for his Dad.</p>
<p>"When your Uncle Sherlock arrived at my flat and introduced your father as his flatmate, I thought I'd never seen your Uncle so excited of having someone to stay with him. When they first met, both men became alive. But your Sherlock, he  became this ball of energy. He began to wear this grin most of the time. He was once a loner you know. A lone soul. He was different—unique from others. No one can understand what's going on in his genius mind. But he found that someone, eventually—in your father.</p>
<p>"They were so close, but then so many dreadful things happened at once. Obstacles and trials got thrown in their way. Then they fell apart. I wish I can see them again like before—as they were meant to be."</p>
<p>Rosie closes her eyes as her tears began to fall. </p>
<p>"You were so alone..." she whispers, as she gazes towards the man. "But that will stop now, Uncle Sherlock. Not when I understand everything. It's time for you to come home."</p>
<p>She removes her gaze from the man still playing, now surrounded by cheering passers-by to look at the open doors of the church. Her eyes fixed on the centre of the altar lit with advent candles.</p>
<p>"If You're listening, please give them both the miracle they deserve..." With a terse nod to the church, she turns to walk away to find her Dad. If her plan will work, she'll have a complete family not just for Christmas.</p>
<p>••••</p>
<p>She found him alright. But of all places, she found him sitting on a bench in a park, sipping a coffee, with the cemetery  just across the street. He's looking at it like he'd been there before. Like he has buried someone there.</p>
<p>She takes a deep breath, before approaching her father.</p>
<p>"Dad?"</p>
<p>John Watson turns to her with a warm smile she loves the most. "Rosie,"</p>
<p>"What are you doing here? Aren't we going to the church?" She asks gently, as she took his father's empty cup, throwing it to the bin. But her father's eyes has now return to looking over across the street.</p>
<p>"Dad, what's wrong?" She asks again.</p>
<p>Rosie watches as his father struggle for words, then he speaks.</p>
<p>"Nothing. Just... I'm just thinking about something. Something I thought I've already buried so deep. Someone who's not—" Then John looks at her like he made a grave mistake. His eyes wide but still trying to convey something.</p>
<p>Rosie sat down beside her father. <br/>"Dad?" her voice shook as she held his father's hand. Somehow, the way her father was looking at her, she has a feeling she knew what he's going to say.</p>
<p>
  <i>Missing someone... who's not my mother.</i>
</p>
<p>And she did understand. So, Rosie smiles brightly at her father. Then she stands up, dragging John with her. Her confidence building up. </p>
<p>"I understand, Dad. It's okay. You don't have to say anything. But I want you to meet... someone." </p>
<p>John looks at her, confusion mirrored in his damp eyes. "Someone?" His father tilts his head observing her, then with that comical wide eyes, her father contradicts, "Rosie—I'm too old for this."</p>
<p>She giggles. "No, Dad. I think this has been long overdue and I couldn't wait anymore."</p>
<p>So before her father can react, she drags John while walking back to the side of the church. </p>
<p>"What are we doing here? The mass just ended." His father says beside her.</p>
<p>"I know, Dad. Just wait."<br/>She replies, turning here and there to look for that same mop of silver-streaked dark curls.</p>
<p>"We should go home." </p>
<p>"No!" She barks, "Not yet—" she adds then continues to search for Sherlock. </p>
<p>She can feel John staring at her with a stern look. Like the soldier he was a long time ago.</p>
<p>"It can't be," she says, whispering to herself. "He should've been here, still. Every Christmas eve before he leaves, he's always playing—"</p>
<p>"Rosie—" John calls her again, but then he freezes on the spot and that's where she hears it. The song John used to sing to her when she was a child during bedtime. But this one? This one's in the form of a hauntingly beautiful strings of a Stradivarius violin. The song that later on Nana Hudson told her was the song that Sherlock used to teach John how to dance the Viennese Waltz for the wedding but to a different song. And as the crowd parted while singing along with the last notes of the famous song, Rosie watches the tears fall from the eyes of both men.</p>
<p>
  <i>"Take my hand<br/>Take my whole life too<br/>For I can't help falling in love with you<br/>For I can't help falling in love with you"</i>
</p>
<p>•••</p>
<p>When she's done wiping her own tears, Rosie runs to her father, throws herself for a hug and whispers in his ears, "Merry Christmas, Dad. Let's keep him this time, okay? Don't let go of him. Not for anyone. Not anymore."</p>
<p>His father nods and hugs her closer, murmuring a heartfelt greeting, when she feels another hand on her shoulder. And when she looks over, she sees Sherlock smiling at her, offering the violin. She smiles back, taking the stringed instrument, before stepping back to let the two men talk.</p>
<p>They start talking quietly in a low voice only she's able to hear. It's a marvel how their body language is almost moving in sync. Like they've never been apart.</p>
<p>"I'd love to talk with you, John. Over a tea?"</p>
<p>John smiles back at Sherlock. His eyes full of understanding. "Alright. Rosie's right. It is time. I think we've suffered too long about this. But first," John declares before offering a hand over Sherlock. "I think I owe you something."</p>
<p>And Rosie almost squeal in delight, so she content herself on giggling while watching the two men reunite. </p>
<p>"Watson," Sherlock calls over to her. <br/>She obediently walks over her future family.</p>
<p>"Can you play the same song for us?"<br/>Sherlock asks her, with a hint of a challenge on his voice.</p>
<p>In which Rosie answers with a grin, "Just like before?" She whispers, as she was taken back on a last memory of her four-year-old self in pyjamas on Christmas eve, in front of her little family playing her own violin, while Sherlock coaches her. John sits on his favourite chair while playing Cluedo with Aunt Molly, Greg and Mycroft, while Nana Martha looks over them smiling as she stirs her cup of tea. Rosie tucks away the memory aiming to remember it over and over again.</p>
<p>Sherlock nods at her with a smile and unshed tears, "Merry Christmas, Watson..."</p>
<p>She stares at Sherlock and her Dad before looking at Sherlock again. She smiles as she reply, "Child's play—Pop," </p>
<p>And as the two blushing men take each other's hand, Rosie considers that as a win.</p>
<p>She then proceeds to play the song as she already knows she'll play for a wedding day.</p>
<p>Later in front of the fireplace, in the shelter of their house, the three of them listen to the ringing of the church bells welcoming the birth of the Saviour in a manger. </p>
<p>Rosie whispers a prayer, <i>“We did it, Nana Martha. Our family is complete.”</i></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've been challenging myself to write from other character's POV... I don't think I'm succeeding but I feel good whenever I finish something so maybe that's an accomplishment? Also, you've just been saved from MAJOR ANGST, because I accidentally deleted my first draft earlier. Fucking bull—well, let me know your kind reactions thank you!✨</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Day 20: Prompt #20: Turkey | one thing's a miss, still a bliss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <b>PROMPT #20: TURKEY.</b>
</p><p> <b>Short Summary:</b></p><p>Your consulting fiancés are back!<br/>This time John tries his hand on cooking. 🤔</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There's a Brit/English christmas dinner extensive research that I did—I learned a lot but I also felt hungry. Lol. But please forgive me if most of them I just included in passing because I don't want to sound like a genius—most likely I butchered everything but FICTION, yes, I'm pulling that card even on foods. And yes, I'm not a Brit. Hah! I really wish, can any of the Brits out there adopt me? 🥺</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>• JOHN •</b>
</p><p>It is a beautiful Saturday. Outside the streets, a blanket of snow covers the road, while inside the flat, 221B exudes warmth against the cold day. </p><p>In the kitchen table, a simple Christmas dinner has been laid out. The whole flat smells of mouthwatering aroma. Insulated bags with sample containers of a bean casserole, yorkshire pudding, maple glazed roasted parsnips, pot coq au vin, a baked ham, roasted chestnut soup, and greens salad are set aside.</p><p>Since both of them plan to spend Christmas eve and Christmas day on Sussex, John wants to make it special for Sherlock. Hence, the adventures of John Watson in Cooking, though he'll give the credit to his parents for his secret love for cooking. His parents made sure he could survive when he went his own way.</p><p>Although, he and Sherlock eat take-out or dine outside most of the time, John will show his fiancé that he won't be a burden of a husband in their lives. He's almost in tears at the thought of him and Sherlock walking the aisle. Christ, he have to compose himself or else his surprise for Sherlock will be for nothing. He then proceeds to prepare the last dish, the traditional classic turkey.</p><p>A few hours later, John looks at the turkey breast with a proud smile. It is the last of the twelve dishes John tries his hand on cooking as preparation for the Christmas dinner he plans.</p><p>Setting aside the other parts of the meat on the fridge to reheat for dinner, he went on to clean his mess. He packs the bird, placing them in an insulation bag like the other.</p><p>Now, he have to ask Mrs. Hudson to try the food for a first-hand review. Then he's off to the market again to purchase the same ingredients for future use. What a day it's gonna be. Knowing his fiancé, it'll be a pain to hide a secret from him. Hopefully, the new body in the morgue will be a great distraction for his genius man and that it'll last for the whole day.</p><p>
  <b>• SHERLOCK •</b>
</p><p>Later that evening...<br/>
A tired Sherlock arrives at 221b...</p><p>Sherlock is hungry. Very. And he doesn't like it. It seems to be that his transport is failing him. He sighs. He should've eaten outside, but then he won't be able to eat with John. John who doesn't fail on looking after him and what he eats.</p><p>John might've thought that Sherlock doesn't notice the increase of carbs and protein in their menu. John had always been taking care of him from the very start. </p><p>Not that he's complaining about his husband-to-be.</p><p>Husband. Sherlock bit his lower lip to prevent them from quivering. Dear God, he is going soft and sappy... but he's happy. Sherlock smiles. Yes, he is happy, feels sappy, and he's smiling now too. Like a real, genuine, ridiculous smile. Most of the time he's earning looks at NSY but he doesn't care. Greg is even happy, congratulating him in their engagement, like he can't believe Sherlock is capable of finding a man—having a boyfriend, let alone be engaged? Oh and Greg's even easier to work with since Sherlock's not forgetting Greg's name now—which seem to please the other man.</p><p>Sherlock shakes his head. Time to refresh and have a well-deserved shower. He smells of the dead, and he won't eat while he still does. John's rules. </p><p>After an hour of showering and scrubbing himself, Sherlock goes back to the kitchen. He went straight to the fridge to find something to eat. Luckily, John has left-overs. Popping the container's lid open, the wonderful aroma of freshly spiced turkey filled his nose. His stomach grumbles and immediately he prepares his meals. </p><p>With the oven set, he wraps his chosen part of the bird in a foil, which are the wings then settles in after a tiresome ordeal of preparing them, he sits on the kitchen table to browse on his phone while he wait.</p><p>An hour later, the bird's done reheating, and ready to plate. So he did.</p><p>As he savours the tender and juicy meat inside his mouth he notice something missing. But the door suddenly opens revealing John carrying a number of bags. Their eyes met and Sherlock smiles with a mouthful of food.</p><p>"Oh? You're here?" asks John, Sherlock watches as John grins seeing the food on his plate.</p><p>Sherlock hums while he continues to munch on his food. Then he stands up taking the bags from his fiancé, and places them on the table. Then he gathers John into his arms. They remain standing there enjoying each other's comfort. Sherlock's thoughts hadn't been this calm before, and it was only when he's in John's arms that he's able to feel this way.</p><p>"So," John begins as they part. "I see you've sampled my dish." Sherlock glances at the table where John gestures with a hand. "How was it?"</p><p>John's looking at him expectantly.</p><p>
  <i>Could use a bit more seasoning.</i>
</p><p>Sherlock dismisses the thought and smiles. "It was fine. Taste's great, even."</p><p>John beams at him as they both settle down to eat the rest.</p><p>As Sherlock proceeds with his meal, he looks up to a frowning John.</p><p>"What's wrong?" asks Sherlock.</p><p>John munches slowly into his food before answering. A frown etch on his face. "I think it needs additional seasoning..."</p><p>"Did it?" Sherlock asks with mock innocence in his voice. No. He's not really going to tell John that he has forgotten the right amount of seasoning to put.</p><p>John nods, still contemplating.</p><p>"It tastes good for me." Sherlock reassures, shoving a forkful of meat in his mouth.</p><p>John glances at him, letting down his utensils and smiles, affection and love evident in his blue eyes. "Yeah?"</p><p>Sherlock hums looking into his fiancés eyes. "We can make them together, so you won't forget anything. Signs of ageing maybe?"</p><p>"Oh, really? Pulling the age card now, aren't we? You wait until you reach forty, Mr. Holmes." John raises an eyebrow at him.</p><p>"Please, I'll still be a genius then, a Watson-Holmes <i>and</i> your husband."</p><p>John shakes head with a shy smile. A speechless John Watson, Sherlock considers that as a win always.</p><p>Later when the rest of the world sleeps, John cuddles with a sleeping Sherlock on the couch while watching late night movie. Then he remembers Mrs. Hudson's delight on seeing the food and tasting them. Well, not all of them. After a few positive feedback, he did left in a hurry to the market when she's about halfway the food tasting. She might scold him for the turkey come tomorrow. John sighs. But there he lay thinking despite the lack of taste, Sherlock has eaten the food. John grins to himself, now that's a win.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>To anyone who's following me on socmed, you'll see me less as I deactivated most of them. IRL problems just kept on coming. Hopefully, this won't be the last work I can finish. But if this it, I am honored to be able to share these stories to you all. John and Sherlock means so much to me. As you all have become. Thank you for having me in the fandom. Thank you for giving me peace and sanctuary. Take care of yourselves. Love you all. - Leev</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Day 21: Prompt #21: Advent | in their own way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>PROMPT #21: ADVENT</b> </p><p>  <b>Short Summary:</b></p><p>Another ordinary day on Baker Street.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the warm naked body against him does not move when he turns to the other side, John knows Sherlock is still slumbering. Looking over the bedside table, the clock says it's four-thirty in the morning. </p><p>As his eyes adjusts in the gloomy light of the lamp, Sherlock's arm tightens around his waist. In tune of Sherlock's body language, it means his fiancé forbids him from standing up. But his bladder disagrees. So, after successfully  prying himself off Sherlock's arm, John triumphantly visits the loo.</p><p>When he returns, the consulting detective is sitting on the bed.</p><p>"Morning," John whispers as he kisses Sherlock's forehead, as if the sleepy Baker Street will awake if they speak in conversational voice. The sleepy man blinks at him which John finds very adorable. </p><p>"It's too early," Sherlock murmurs, while hoarding the blanket over him it made John chuckle. "I know, love. Go on. Go back to sleep, I'll put the kettle on."</p><p>Only getting a sleepy hum, John tucks Sherlock back to bed, then walks to the kitchen to make tea for two. The consulting detective cannot sleep well without him, so the additional sleep won't last long. Sherlock will definitely follow him to the kitchen later.</p><p>Tea on a mug and a few leftover biscuits from last night, John sips a drink before sitting down on his chair. He pulls a scratch paper amongst Sherlock's mess over the table then proceeds to list the things in his mind. </p><p>Later will be planning for the 23rd's Christmas party with friends—the food, games, music, and then planning for the Sussex getaway. Both of them were halfway through the list of activities to do for Boxing Day, and Sherlock already chose a charity he wants to give something to.</p><p>As John continues to ponder what else is there to list, the door to their bedroom opens revealing a still sleepy Sherlock. John glances over his watch—six in the morning. He lost track of the time.</p><p>"Morning," Sherlock greets him over a yawn and embraces him from behind.</p><p>"Morning," John replies softly. "Tea?"</p><p>His fiancé hums. John sets a mug of tea in front of Sherlock.</p><p>"What do we do today?"</p><p>"Well, we can attend the Nativity Scene play or we can watch movies with a bit of the same theme.” John suggests, then he blushes. “Or we can watch Love Actually... or better yet, that brilliant trilogy of The Hobbit, what do you think?”</p><p>Sherlock is quiet for a minute before answering, eyeing him incredulously. “Really, John?"</p><p>"What?" John shrugs innocently.</p><p>"You seem to have a penchant of watching movies with that clone of yours."</p><p>"Wha—<i>Oh</i>.Oi!" John exclaims while Sherlock finishes his tea. "He's a brilliant actor, you know. Deserves every—"</p><p>"Yes. If you're quite finish patronising yourself. We're going out." Sherlock stands up abruptly, putting away his empty mug.</p><p>"Out? Wait. Sherlock—"</p><p>John watches as Sherlock disappears back to their bedroom then comes back out after five minutes in his fancy two piece suit and dress shoes. His fiancé goes on to put his winter coat looking at him expectantly.</p><p>"Well? Get dressed, John Watson. We'll find you a real Nativity scene."</p><p>"But it's bloody seven o'clock in the morning—" John complains as Sherlock brandishes his phone, tapping without abandon on his screen.</p><p>"Westminster, 8 AM. A mass will be held in observance of Advent feria. Time, John—is gold. We'll have breakfast on the way."</p><p>"Christ—"</p><p>Sherlock cuts him off. "Bit not good to say that on the church's premises—"</p><p>"Alright, alright. I'm going."</p><p>John shakes his head as he abandons the list and his half-empty mug of tea then leaves to dress. John wonders if he's rubbing off on the love of his life. </p><p>•••</p><p>After a very busy day, Sherlock has given up, allowing John to watch his favourite movies. So there by the couch, John eyes Sherlock in amusement, as his fiancé swoons over the voice of the dragon character—which, according to him is a bit... sexy; the main hobbit character—which he finds adorable, and then cries over the death of the King of Durin's Folk. John sits back with a grin on his face as he munches over their popcorn while watching Sherlock's expressions, which are film-worthy, by the way.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Day 22: Prompt #22: Cards | Merry Christmas, Darling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <b>PROMPT #22: CARDS</b>
</p><p>  <b>Short Summary:</b></p><p>The contents of the consulting fiancés Christmas cards</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <strong>Sherlock's Christmas Card</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>John,</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>If the me in the past would've been asked by the question, "Do you believe in love?", Past-Sherlock would've been incredulous. I did not believe in it, simply because I couldn't see it. For you know, I am a man of science. Everything has an explanation. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>But when you walked into my life, you proved me wrong. You proved me wrong in so many ways that I only consult my mind to be right. You changed me from a lone chemical element to a compound that could no longer exist without you. You've become the center of my thoughts. You calmed me, understood me like no one else would. You made me into someone new. A better version of the former. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Dear God, I want to say something more, but I'm going to stop the words at this point, for it wouldn't fit no more. The research I've made on how to write Christmas cards says I need to be on point and heartfelt. I hope I did. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Whoever thought of writing over Christmas cards just the size of a medium report card was easy? How do they even fit everything they wanted to say?</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>But John, </em>
    <em>I love you and I'm honoured to be your husband soon. Soon couldn't come enough. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Merry Christmas, darling. What I am today, I owe everything to you.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>With Love,<br/>
— Sherlock</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <b>
    <em>John's Christmas Card</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Sherlock,</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>What can I even say to you that you haven't heard before? I always tell you that you're brilliant, fantastic, amazing. But those words, you only see them as platitudes. And I know you didn't really want them. You want to be seen as who you really are. You often wear that mask of yours so you wouldn't be hurt. And I feel myself as a lucky man that you chose to let your guard down with.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>I guess you'll just have to read this little poem I wrote: (Don't roll your eyes on me, Mr. Holmes)</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>*<br/>
For once, my life had been a blur<br/>
Buried in the dark, unseen, unheard<br/>
Until I found you, shards of glass on the <br/>
floor</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>I picked you up and made you whole<br/>
Not knowing you'd do the same in return<br/>
You'd do more</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>You found me, saw me, heard me<br/>
You brought my existence back</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>For you are my salvation<br/>
You've become my life<br/>
And whatever happens<br/>
I will love you and protect you until I am able</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>P.S. In case whatever you'll write won't fit, you just have to keep your writing in small letters and not capital, Sherlock. In that way, it will fit in the card. Also, I saw you sneaking on using my laptop and researching about making cards— that site should've said, "Do not put complains in your card." Or I'll give them a negative review.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>P.P.S. I love you more than anything, sweetheart. Merry Christmas, I couldn't wait to spend every year of them with you... and every other occasions as your husband. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Lovingly Yours,<br/>
John</em>
  </p>
</blockquote>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Day 23: Prompt #23: Party | a very memorable gathering</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>PROMPT #23: PARTY</b><br/>Addtl. Tags: In John Watson's POV,<br/>Sappy Johnlock continues</p><p>221B is silent but that doesn't mean there's no party. ;)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For Mike Stamford,<br/>With gratitude.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I am so sorry, John.”<br/>
Mrs. Hudson nabbed the end of her apron over her eyes, making me feel guilty again. The party, apparently, isn’t going to happen anymore. Her sister made a call earlier, asking for a last minute Christmas shopping help, and now she’s going to be on her way to her. </p><p>I held the door for Mrs. Hudson, while Sherlock picked up her suitcase, placing it inside the boot of her car. Sherlock offered to drive earlier but she didn’t accept.</p><p>“It’s alright, Mrs. Hudson.” I say.<br/>
“Your sister is far more important than us, and you say you’ve already given Molly and Greg the heads up?”</p><p>She nodded. “Oh, yes. They feel sorry as well that I have to cancel but I really can’t say no to Old Millie.” </p><p>I smiled at her, hoping it’d be enough to soothe her worries.<br/>
“Then everything’s going to be alright. We’ll be on our way as well to Sherlock’s parents for an early Christmas dinner, so it’ll give us an early head start.”</p><p>With the mention of Sherlock’s parents her facial expression lits up. “Oh! Yes! You boys say hello to Luanne and Frederick for me—and take care of driving Sherlock.”</p><p>I wrapped Mrs. Hudson in a hug, and she patted my shoulder in return. Sherlock hugged her next before he replied. “We will, Mrs. Hudson. Take care of yourself. Call us when you’ve arrived at your sister’s.”</p><p>Odd. There was something in Sherlock’s voice that I cannot quite pick out, but Mrs. Hudson stopped from talking. I glanced at her in time to see her sigh like she’s given up on something. I turned back to Sherlock and there he was, smiling that infamous Cheshire grin of his.<br/>
“Sherlock? Is everything alright?” I whispered. He stared at me and then his smile becomes genuine, his eyes reflecting humour. “Everything’s fine, John. You need not worry.” Then definitely, just for a show, he pecked a soft kiss over my lips while Mrs. Hudson’s looking. Just because he can do that.</p><p>“Alright you too. I’m going now. Stop making this old lady teary-eyed. Pack your things and do not forget to lock everything. Again—drive safely, Sherlock.” She says then waved at us before she got into her car and exited the curb.</p><p>I looked at my fiancé who’s still eyeing the end of Mrs. Hudson’s car.</p><p>I am now convinced that something was going on. But knowing my fiancé, I guess I had to wait until the big reveal.<br/>
••••</p><p>The drive to Sherlock’s parents was uneventful, thankfully. There’s a forecast of outbreaks of rain, following snow later, so it’s a good idea that we had an early drive. </p><p>As the wooden gate of the old brick house comes into view, I myself cannot wait for a shower and a hot cocoa afterward. Sherlock killed the engine then parked the car with ease in the garage. I got out and pulled our overnight bags before following Sherlock inside.</p><p>The first thing that I noticed was the darkness and the eerie silence that welcomed us. I was about to ask Sherlock if his parents possibly went out when the heavy curtains opened letting the dim afternoon light from outside come in. And then the next thing that happened, we’re surrounded by blinking fairy lights.</p><p>When our eyes adjusted to the lights, it was our ears next—the greeting of our friends and Sherlock’s parents followed by a loud applause were enough to jump start a sleeping drunk.</p><p>“Happy Engagement, John and Sherlock!”</p><p>Mrs. Hudson stands near the window, her eyes shining with tears, Molly beside her, smiling wide, the dip on her cheeks accentuated by a blush clearly caused by her new beau, Lionel, beside her. Greg clapping with the boyish grin his face. Beside Greg, Sherlock’s parents, Luanne and Fred stood clapping with the others offering the warmest of smiles.</p><p>I took Sherlock’s hand and squeezed it. My heart in my hand, as he squeezed back. But it wasn’t until I saw the two women beside Sherlock’s parents that I nearly lost it: Harry and Clara stood side by side clapping with a smile. Well, Clara was. Harry’s smirking like the mischievous little girl she was before.</p><p>“Well, John. I hope you’re surprised.”<br/>
Sherlock suddenly said beside me.</p><p>I might’ve squeezed his hand even tighter just to reign my emotions but my eyes are ready to tear-up.<br/>
“You mean you planned this?” I asked him while looking at him like the first time he brandished his skills of deductive reasoning.</p><p>“I… Yes. I… wanted to make our first Christmas party special. So I tried getting Harry and Clara on board, they are the ones who thought, it can be an engagement party for us as well—and if you’d just turn around you’ll…”</p><p>I didn’t hear the rest of his words because I turned around already. My eyes welled with tears as I let go of the hand of my love and went to embrace my parents. My mother, Lily and my father Julian, teary-eyed but full of smiles. </p><p>“We’re so proud of you, John. We hope you know that. We know Harriet is trying, and that’s thanks to you and Clara.” My mother said while wiping the tears in her eyes. My father cleared his throat, unshed tears making his blue eyes sparkle as he squeezed my shoulder. “You found a good man, son. And I’m glad he found you as well.”</p><p>I glanced at Sherlock who’s smiling shyly, while talking to his parents and Mycroft. Mycroft clearly said something that caused Sherlock to glare at him, but their parents just laughed at them.</p><p>As the engagement slash Christmas party began, the crowd moved further into the house to the dining room where Luanne went all out in preparation of the various dishes that could rival the finest restaurants in London. She did reveal that the others helped her. Mrs. Hudson talked to us and even apologised for not telling the truth earlier, but I told her it didn’t matter. She blushed when Sherlock told her she’s the best landlady ever which earned him a motherly kiss in the forehead, but dialed it back when he said she could read her easily. Mrs. Hudson playfully smacked the back of Sherlock’s head and that had me laughing.</p><p>I looked over everyone, casually chatting and giggling over Christmas dinner with silly jokes and the Holmes’ siblings funny stories from childhood and I thought, I could never have had this if I hadn’t met Sherlock. But the thought of not meeting Sherlock made my heart ache like I was shot once again in Afghanistan. </p><p>Arms embraced me from behind, settling on my stomach, and the sad thoughts and memories vanished immediately. Sherlock organised this party for me, for us. And I could never be more grateful. I rested my back against the warmth of the man who I owe my life, silently thanking Mike Stamford, my dear old friend, for that fateful day when I almost chose to end my life, but instead I decided to take a walk across the park for the last time—where I met him, and then eventually lead me to meeting Sherlock.</p><p>And as if reading my thoughts, Sherlock spoke about our friend, “Mike sends his regards. He says Cameron will be giving birth soon. We’re invited to the Christening.”</p><p>I smiled. “Alright.” I looked up toward Sherlock, feeling his eyes already on me. “Did you invite him to our wedding?”</p><p>Sherlock looked at me incredulously. “Of course, John. He’s the reason we met. I owe him a lot.”</p><p>I nodded understanding what he meant. Mike Stamford, our very own cupid. “Me too. I am glad we’re thinking the same thing.</p><p>We stared at each other, lost in the memory of that first meeting, and we both smiled. </p><p>While the party continued inside, we stayed at the porch watching the snow slowly covering the grounds in a blanket of white. It’s going to be a pain traveling to our old bnb tomorrow, but Sherlock wouldn’t mind for sure.</p><p>After all, we have a Christmas dinner to perfect, and I have some more romancing to do.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Day 24: Prompt #24: Romance | although it's been said</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <b>PROMPT #24: ROMANCE</b>
</p><p>A cozy night. ✨</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You're on the last page. Congratulations!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><i>December 24, 2020</i><br/>
(A few minutes to Christmas)</p><p>While the shower of snow falls relentlessly outside without a sound, the crackle of burning firewood by the fireplace against each other filled the cozy living room of the soon to be Watson-Holmes residence.</p><p>With the festive Christmas dinner consumed and greetings made to their families via phone call, the two men occupying the house are now comfortably wrapped around one another while waiting for midnight. A mattress was placed in front of the fireplace where Sherlock lies against John's chest.</p><p>Tapping John's chest, Sherlock stood up and lead his fiancé by the fireplace then he sets the music in repeat to that one track that John loves to listen to—The Christmas song.</p><p>John smiled at him while he put his arms around the man's neck. Sherlock then guides John's hand to his waist. And as the song began, they both closed their eyes and swayed into the music.</p><p>The coming new year will be a busy one for them. But Sherlock no longer worries. All of these feelings have been replaced by excitement to be wed to John. He had waited for so long, and even given up. But now Sherlock has finally found his home. He'll never be lost again. As long as John's with him.</p><p>Somewhere outside, a church bell chimed marking midnight. When Sherlock opened his eyes, John was looking at him with so much love and warmth in those eyes, he almost couldn't breath.</p><p>John took a deep breath, "I... I didn't know... that day, Sherlock. That day when you jumped I..."</p><p>Sherlock held John close and rested his forehead against his.</p><p>"It's okay, John." He said. But John shook his head.</p><p>"No. It's not. It will never be. If I didn't, if I wasn't confused of what I'm feeling back then..."</p><p>"Are you confused now?"</p><p>"God, no. No, Sherlock. I love you. More than I can say." John tiptoed to place a soft kiss over his lips. </p><p>Sherlock blushed, warmth spreading inside him. Then in return, he kissed John's forehead. He gathered John into his arms, hugging his fiancé tight.</p><p>"I love you too, John. Without a doubt. I am honoured to have your love, and I promise to keep it in here..." Sherlock laid a palm over his heart.</p><p>When John slowly made love to him that night, Sherlock felt relived that he came back. That he was really alive. That he could get to spend Christmas with John, as his fiancé even.</p><p>"Happy Christmas, John." Sherlock whispered in the dark. John shifted behind him, spooning him in the warmth of his arms. </p><p>"Merry Christmas, Sherlock." John murmured against the back of his neck.</p><p>It was just the first of many Christmases they will celebrate and treasure forever. </p><p>And Sherlock couldn't wait for their new journey to begin as the consulting husbands of Baker Street.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>✨✨✨It's a wrap! ✨✨✨</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. End Notes | Extras</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">And you've reached the end—Huzzah!</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">This last note serves as guide to the work. I'm setting John and Sherlock's history mostly after TRF (Sherlock S2:Ep.3) and TEH. Ignoringone unnecessary minor character and focusing only on John and Sherlock and their Christmas. 🥺🤧</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 1 | Prompt #1: Eggnog</span>
</p>
<ul class="ul1">
<li class="li2"><span class="s2">This is like the beginning of my canon!johnlock universe.</span></li>
</ul><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">John and Sherlock weren't boyfriends yet, but the former's already questioning what he's feeling about Sherlock.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 2 | Prompt #2: Blanket</span>
</p>
<ul class="ul1">
<li class="li2"><span class="s2">When Sherlock got sick because of his hang-over from 'eggnogs', he unconsciously reaches out to John because he's oblivious about his feelings as well.</span></li>
</ul><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 3 | Independent | Prompt #3: Snowmen </span>
</p>
<ul class="ul1">
<li class="li2"><span class="s2">Parent!lock and the whole S4 happened in the past.</span></li>
</ul><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 4 | Prompt #4: Lights</span>
</p>
<ul class="ul1">
<li class="li2"><span class="s2">Established Relationship - Boyfriends. </span></li>
</ul><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">I left behind in purpose the detail of how and Sherlock got together. Who proposed to be someone's boyfriend? Well, let's find out in the future. If I'll be able to survive this hellhole. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 5 | Prompt #5: Grinch</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 6 | Prompt #6: Fire</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 7 | Prompt #7: Candy Cane</span>
</p>
<ul class="ul1">
<li class="li2"><span class="s2">Continuation of the *ERBF saga.</span></li>
</ul><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 8 | Independent | Prompt #8: Jumper</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 9 | Prompt #9: Wrapping</span>
</p>
<ul class="ul1">
<li class="li2"><span class="s2">Continuation of the ERBF saga.</span></li>
</ul><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 10 | Prompt #10: Surprise</span>
</p>
<ul class="ul1">
<li class="li2">
<span class="s2">And the ERBY develops into CONSULTING FIANCÉS! </span><span class="s4">💖💍</span>
</li>
</ul><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 11 | Prompt #11: Cold Feet</span>
</p>
<ul class="ul1">
<li class="li2"><span class="s2">Continuation of the **ERF saga.</span></li>
</ul><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 12 | Independent | Prompt #12: Virus</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Set in the beginning</span><br/>
<br/>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 13-15 | Independent | Prompts 13-15: London Snow/Family/Mistletoe</span>
</p>
<ul class="ul1">
<li class="li2"><span class="s2">Retired johnlock, Old age, Rosie has a daughter, inspired by a song</span></li>
</ul><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 16 | Prompt #16: Antlers</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 17 | Prompt #17 | Presents</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 18 | Prompt #18 | Tree</span>
</p>
<ul class="ul1">
<li class="li2"><span class="s2">consulting fiancés are back!</span></li>
</ul><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 19 | Independent | Prompt #19; Church</span>
</p>
<ul class="ul1">
<li class="li2">
<span class="s2">I've always wanted a johnlock reunion. So I wrote it twice here.</span><span class="s4">😭💖</span>
</li>
</ul><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 20 | Prompt #20: Turkey</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 21 | Prompt #21: Advent</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 22 | Prompt #22: Cards</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 23 | Prompt #23: Party</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Chapter 24 | Prompt #24: Romance</span>
</p>
<ul class="ul1">
<li class="li2"><span class="s2">continuous from the ERF chapters </span></li>
</ul><p class="p3"> </p>
<ul class="ul2">
<li class="li2"><span class="s2">*ERBF - Established Relationship - Boyfriends</span></li>
<li class="li2"><span class="s2">**ERF - Established Relationship - Fiancés</span></li>
</ul><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Thank you everyone for reading and leaving comments! I appreciate them all, especially the kudos, bookmarks, recommendations, and hits! </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Special mention to the organiser of this collection, SherlockWatson_Holmes and my lovely and supportive friends, guests and fellow writers. I couldn't thank you enough. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">This work could never happened if not for my resources: to all of the grammar checker online websites, Merriam Webster, Thesaurus, Google Maps, elitedaily, GreatBritishChefs site, BBC Food, metofficegov UK, Newport Cathedral website, oxford-royale, Wikipedia, Mulberry cottages, Amberleyhousecottages and last but not the least, projectbritain.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">✨</span>
  <span class="s2">Joyous and Glorious 2021 to all of you!</span>
  <span class="s4">✨</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">See you when I see you! x</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p>
<ul class="ul2">
<li class="li2"><span class="s2">allsovacant / Leev </span></li>
</ul><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">(24 Dec 2020)</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Never-ending gratitude to you! ✨</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You’ve reached the bottom page! Hurrah! Thank you so much for giving my work a chance to be read. Thank you in advance for the hits, kudos, comments, bookmarks—I really appreciate them all. Happy Holidays!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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